Exceeding Expectations
by ThinkingSpeck
Summary: Four children on their way to Hogwarts realise they have something in common: they all have a lot to live up to. They decide to work together and do something about it.
1. Chapter One: Beginnings

**Chapter 1: Beginnings**

Ron Weasley paused at the compartment door, heart thudding in his chest. He was rather nervous of the Boy Who Lived, and would have preferred to meet him in calmer circumstances. There was nowhere else to sit, though, so he slid the door open and walked in.

"Anyone sitting here?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite the boy whom he now knew to be Harry Potter. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry Potter shook his head, and Ron sat down awkwardly.

The door slid open again, and the Weasley twins stuck their heads in.

"Hey, Ron. Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

Ron still wanted to make a good impression, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Are you really Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh - well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got - you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who...?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then realised what he was doing and quickly looked out the window instead.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, seeming to actually be curious about Ron. Well, at least about Ron's family.

"Er - yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

Ron nodded, then changed the topic.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles. What are they like?"

"Horrible. Well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five." Ron said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

He stopped talking, feeling like a bit of an idiot for ranting at the Boy Who Lived, who he'd only just met.

Harry didn't seem to mind, though. He was giving Ron a speculative look, and after a few seconds he spoke.  
"You know, I think I might have even more to live up to. I mean, I'm the Boy Who Lived. I defeated Voldemort - "

Ron gasped.

"You said his name! Blimey!"

Harry waved it off.

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything - it's just that I'd never heard of him until about a month ago, and I never learned to be afraid of his name. Anyway, so everyone says I defeated him when I was a baby. Survived the Killing Curse, got this scar - you know the story. So I'm really famous, but what can I actually do? I don't have special powers, and I don't even know anything about magic. Even Ollivander expects me to do great things, and honestly I'm just a confused kid!"

Harry looked at his feet, breathing heavily, as Ron tried to figure out what to say. He suddenly felt a strong kinship with this strange black-haired boy, and it had nothing to do with fame.

"Any idea what you're going to do about it?"  
"How can I? I don't _know_ anything. I know I want to _be_ someone and _do_ something, but I don't even know what that means in your world. I have no idea what I should actually do."

Ron smiled nervously. "We should work together, you and me. Figure out how to be even better than what people expect us to be."

"Really? That'd be brilliant!"

They grinned at each other, then solemnly shook hands.

A moment later the door opened, and a round-faced boy came in.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?"

Harry and Ron both shook their heads, and the boy wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

Ron glanced at Harry, who nodded, and then back to the round-faced boy.

"We'll help you look. I'm Ron, and this is Harry."

The boy looked extremely relieved. "Thanks. I'm Neville, by the way - Neville Longbottom."

"Wait a minute," said Ron. "Have you tried asking a prefect for help?"

Neville shook his head. "I've got another first-year helping me, but we hadn't thought of prefects. Where can we find them?"

"Front of the train, first two carriages - my prat of a brother, Percy, was boasting about it."

As Harry and Ron stood up, a girl with bushy brown hair stepped into the compartment behind Neville.

"Any luck, Neville?"

Neville shook his head. "No, but these guys were about to go to the front with me to ask a prefect for help."

"Oh, of course! Why didn't I think of that?" She looked somewhat embarrassed. "I'm Hermione, by the way."

Harry and Ron gave their names, and then Ron said, "I'll stay behind and look after our stuff if you like, Harry."

Hermione spoke up. "I think I can lock the door with magic."

The three boys stared at her, and after a moment she continued.

"I memorised all our textbooks before I came. I couldn't try everything, but that's one of the ones I did try. It worked for me then."

The boys didn't speak as they followed Hermione out into the corridor. When they were all out, she touched the top of her wand to the latch and frowned in concentration.

"_Colloportus_"

There was a squelching sound, and Hermione stepped back with a satisfied look on her face. She set off towards the front of the train, the other three trailing after her.

In the second carriage from the front, they knocked on the first door they came to. It slid open, and the first-years saw four older students, two boys and two girls, sitting inside the compartment. The older students' robes were trimmed with green. One of the older boys spoke, irritation clear in his voice.

"Firsties? What are you doing here?"

"We're trying to find Neville's toad." Hermione said. Her voice squeaked a little, but she stood her ground.

"Well, it's not here. Scram."

One of the older girls muttered and waved her wand, and Hermione was pushed back out into the corridor. A moment later, the door slammed shut and a blind came down over its window.

Hermione was furious. "We ought to report them - that's no way for prefects to behave!"

Neville shrank back. "We'll just get in trouble if we try. No one'll believe us."

Ron nodded. "Let's try another compartment, see if we can find some prefects who aren't Slytherins. If we get Ravenclaws, they might even know some clever way to find the toad without having to search."

They peered into the next compartment, and saw blue-trimmed robes. Ron knocked, and the door slid open. A girl with long curly hair smiled at them.  
"Can I help you?"

"We're looking for Neville's toad." said Ron.

"Trevor," Neville added.

The older girl pulled out a small chocolate bar, still in its wrapper. She pointed her wand at Neville and muttered something, then pointed it at the chocolate bar and muttered some more. The chocolate bar twitched, and suddenly it seemed like she was restraining it.

"This should lead you straight to Trevor. If it doesn't work, come back and I'll try something else - either way, you can have the chocolate."

They thanked her and left, Ron leading the way as the chocolate bar pulled him along.

By now, Ron was feeling better than he could remember ever feeling before. He had people taking him seriously, including Harry Potter, and right now they were even following him. He had known that this train trip would be a good chance to make friends, and he was now pretty hopeful that the four of them would end up good friends. He had a lot in common with Harry Potter and would probably be working with him to become excellent, and he suspected that Hermione and Neville might join in with that also - Hermione definitely seemed like she had something to prove, though he wasn't sure about Neville.

The four first-years almost ran down the train, drawn along by the insistent pulling of the enchanted chocolate bar. Eventually the bar veered to the left as Ron passed yet another compartment door. After a glance inside showed only a few older girls that Ron didn't recognise, he knocked on the door. One of the girls opened it, and after a brief-but-embarrassing explanation, Neville took the chocolate bar from Ron and retrieved the toad.

The four of them then headed back towards Ron and Harry's compartment. As they went, Ron spoke up.

"If you two want to grab your trunks from wherever you're sitting, you're welcome to come and sit with me and Harry."

Harry nodded cheerfully in response to Hermione and Neville's inquiring looks, and soon afterwards the quartet was comfortably settled in the compartment which Ron and Harry had previously claimed. No one had been particularly surprised when Hermione magically unlocked the door, and her spell worked perfectly on the first try. The boys were getting used to the idea that Hermione was almost frighteningly competent.

As they took their seats, Ron looked inquiringly at Harry. Harry shrugged slightly and nodded, which Ron took as permission to tell Neville and Hermione what they had been talking about before. He started talking as soon as they were all settled.

"Harry and I were talking before, just before Neville knocked on the door. I've got all my brothers and their successes at everything hanging over me, and Harry is the Boy Who Lived. We both feel like we've got a lot to live up to, and we're not sure how. We're going to work together to figure it out. Are you guys interested?"

Hermione was bouncing slightly in her seat. "That sounds great! The wizarding world is all new to me, and I don't really know anything about it, and I'm really worried that I won't be good enough. Everyone else already knows so much!"

Harry held up a hand. "I know a lot less than you do, Hermione. I only found out about magic about a month ago, and I haven't spent the last month reading books. Probably should have, though."

There was a pause, as three pairs of eyes turned automatically to Neville. He blushed, and smiled nervously. After a moment, he opened up a little.

"I won't be any use to you, but I'd love to try. I'm not really much good at anything except plants. My parents were aurors, and Gran keeps telling me how I'll never be as good as them. So I guess I've got something to prove, too."

Ron waited for someone else to say something, but no one did - they were all thinking. He waited another few moments before grabbing their attention.

"Right, so we all have something to prove. We all want to work together, I think. Let's make a pact!"

The others actually cheered out loud.

"We need a name," said Neville.

"Cannons!"

"Green Magic!"

"The Quartet!"

"Ooh, that's better than what I was going to say. Even better, how about just 'The Four'?"

The boys looked at Hermione.

"I like it," said Harry, "It's simple and it fits."

"It lets us grow," said Neville. "We don't really know what we're going to do yet, and this way we won't have to change our name every week."

Ron grinned and held his right hand palm-down in the middle of the compartment.

"The Four! We'll work together to be excellent!"

The other three put their right hands on top of Ron's, and then they all sat back. Ron actually felt rather dizzy after all this, and Harry looked a bit pale. Neville seemed scared and excited, and Hermione was just excited.

After a few moments, Ron spoke up. "Right, what do we start with?"

A pause, and then Harry's voice. "Ollivander told me that the wand always chooses the wizard – he said that you can use another wand, but the results will never be as good. Ron, you said you're using your brother's old wand – shouldn't that mean that it'll never quite work right for you, no matter how much you try and no matter how good you are?"

Ron looked somewhat stunned at that. "I guess so. I never really thought about that."

Hermione looked appalled. "Ron, you can't go to school with a wand that hasn't chosen you - that's really unfair!"

Ron shrugged helplessly, and Neville chimed in. "I've got my dad's old wand. I never really thought about it, but it doesn't really feel like it fits me."

Harry looked from one to the other. "So why don't you both go to Ollivander's and buy wands that actually suit you? I'll pay for it if that helps – I've got loads of money anyway, and I don't want my friends held back by their wands. Plus I need you to be able to watch my back - I met a horrible boy at Madam Malkin's when I was getting my robes, and he talked like he expected to have a lot of power at school."

Ron was rather pink and seemed to be having trouble with speech, so Neville answered for both of them. "That'd be great, Harry! Um... Are you really sure, though? Wands are expensive."

Harry shrugged. "I've never really had money, and now suddenly I have heaps of gold. It's not really... I dunno, _real_ to me – like, I don't feel like a rich person or anything – but if I can do useful stuff with it then I want to."

Neville nodded. "Thank you, then. I would like that a lot."

"When we get to Hogwarts," said Hermione, "we can ask a teacher about going to Diagon Alley to buy wands. I'm sure they won't mind, not when it's so important for schoolwork."

They all agreed with that.

"So what do we do once we get to Hogwarts?" said Ron. "I mean, obviously we'll get Sorted and have classes and all that, but what are the four of us going to do to be excellent?"

"I was thinking we could meet in an empty classroom," said Hermione, "and study and practice. We might even want to ask a teacher for help, but we don't know that until we meet them. Are we all likely to be in the same House?"

Ron looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm pretty much a dead cert for Gryffindor – all my brothers went there. Hermione, you're really smart – you could definitely go to Ravenclaw. You showed courage when we were looking for Neville's toad, though, and I guess we're all showing some sort of courage in all this Four stuff. Not sure about Harry or Neville, though – sorry, just don't know you well enough yet."

"What do we do if we're in different Houses?" said Neville, sounding a bit forlorn.

"Meet up and work together just the same." said Hermione. "It's better if we're all in the same House, of course, but we can still spend a lot of time working together no matter what."

Neville seemed reassured by that, and the conversation turned to more general topics. Ron knew a lot about Hogwarts from his older brothers, and a lot about the wizarding world that he'd grown up in. Hermione knew everything that she'd been able to get from her books in the few months since she'd found out about magic, but had no experience of the wizarding world. Neville had grown up with magic, but had no brothers or sisters, and his childhood seemed to have been a bit odd – he didn't want to talk about it, and the other three were too busy with other interesting things to even think of prying. Harry knew the least about magic – he had only learned about magic about a month ago, and hadn't been reading like Hermione. He and Hermione had grown up in the Muggle world, though, and Ron and Neville learned a lot about that world as they talked.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet. He quickly learned that she didn't have the food he was used to – instead it was all wizarding food, and he was wildly curious. Of course, he was also very hungry.

"I'll take the lot!"

The woman's eyebrows went up, but she merely said "Alright, one of everything then," as she took his money and loaded up his arms with all of the food. She glanced around at the other three, but Harry intervened. "You three can share all this – there's plenty for all of us, and I really just wanted to try everything."

The woman nodded and backed out of the compartment, smiling as she went – after all, a single compartment wouldn't normally buy anywhere near so much from her.

Conversation within the compartment continued for a few minutes, then cut off abruptly as the door slid open again. The four occupants looked up to see three boys in the doorway: a thin pale boy in the middle, and a rather solider boy scowling vaguely on either side of him. Harry tensed slightly, Ron's face began to turn red, Neville shrank back very slightly but seemed thoughtful, and Hermione just seemed faintly puzzled. Meanwhile, the boy in the middle was staring at Harry with a look of undisguised fascination.

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Harry nodded shortly. "Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"

The boy, whose name turned out to be Draco Malfoy, looked disconcerted for a brief moment before he recovered his poise. "I just wanted to tell you how things work in the wizarding world, so you don't make mistakes that will hurt you later. For instance, you'll soon learn that some wizarding families are better than others – Weasley here is a perfect example, though Longbottom's not much better. And as for the mudblood... It's lucky for you that I'm here, Potter – I can help you meet the right people."

He held out his hand for Harry to shake, but Harry didn't take it. Instead he stared calmly at Draco for a few seconds before he spoke. "You're right, I don't know much about this world. But what makes these people bad, and what makes you better? They've been nice to me. I like them, they seem to like me, and they seem like decent people. What's wrong with them?"

Draco shook his head sadly. "Wow, you really _don't_ know anything about our world. It's about blood and magic, Potter – blood, magic, and class. Purebloods like me have better magic than mudbloods and halfbreeds, and society works better with just purebloods. That's why we hate blood traitors like the Weasleys and the Longbottoms – their magic is fine, with exceptions like Longbottom here, but they want to let halfbreeds and mudbloods come in and hurt our society."

Harry became aware that Neville and Hermione were physically restraining a furious Ron, but decided to worry about that later – for now, he was dealing with Draco Malfoy. He shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but I think you're wrong. From all I've seen, I think my new friends are nicer and better people than you."

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like these, and it'll rub off on you."

The Four stood up, wands already drawn. The compartment suddenly felt very crowded, and Malfoy took a step backwards out the door before he even realised what he was doing. Before he could recover, Ron reached out and slammed the door shut. As Malfoy reached for the door, Hermione pointed her wand.

"_Colloportus!"_

The four of them laughed as Draco tugged ineffectually at the door, and even more when he gave up and stalked off down the corridor.

"By the way," said Harry, "why were you two holding Ron back? Did Malfoy say something really bad or something?"

Ron himself answered this, seeming a lot calmer now. "He called her a mudblood - that's really bad, probably the worst word I know. I've spent a lot of time around adult wizards and witches, plus all my brothers, and I've heard a lot of swearing. I don't think I've ever heard that word used by anyone I respected. Not once. It's just not a word you use, Harry. I knew the Malfoys were bad news, but I'm still surprised that he said that. I'm glad Neville and Hermione held me back, though – I don't want to be in trouble at Hogwarts before I even get here, and especially not for a Malfoy. So thanks, guys."

No one interrupted them after that, partly because Hermione had forgotten to unlock the door – a few people came to gawk at them through the glass, and some even tried to open the door, but the Four didn't notice as they chatted. Finally they were interrupted by an announcement echoing through the train.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Hermione was wearing her robes already, but the three boys were still dressed in Muggle clothing. They had grown comfortable with each other through hours of conversation, so Hermione just darkened the door's windowpane with a spell and stood facing it while the boys changed into their robes behind her. Ron gave the all-clear when they were finished, and Hermione cleared the window with a brief incantation before turning back to face them. She noticed with approval that Ron no longer had that smudge on his nose, and she was glad that she had managed not to say anything – she was getting along so well with these boys, and really didn't want to annoy them. She did now straighten Neville's cloak and neaten Harry's hair a little, though.

After a slight pause for Hermione to finally unlock the door, the Four joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much.

"Yeh'll get yer first sight o' Hogwarts in just a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. The Four took a boat, avoiding the scrum as the several dozen other first-years scrambled for foursomes and for boats.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

As they stood waiting for the last first-years to disembark, Ron turned to the other three with a thoughtful look on his face. "We should remember this place – we could always practice spells here, if we can't use a classroom."

Harry grinned. "Or if we want to practise spells that are too dangerous for a classroom – we'll definitely be learning some of them, if I have any say in it."

Hermione tried to look disapproving, but couldn't help dissolving into giggles. Even in the dark, the other three could see a manic gleam in her eye – they hastily reconsidered their impressions of this girl.

When everyone was standing on the pebble beach, Hagrid strode off into the darkness. The first-years followed his lamp up a narrow passageway through the rock, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

After making sure everyone was there, Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	2. Chapter Two: Choices

**Chapter Two: Choices**

The door swung open at once. A tall, grey-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be there – but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering around nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Harry and Neville smiled at Hermione, who merely looked smug; they were neat, it was thanks to Hermione that they were neat, and both they and Hermione knew it.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged helplessly, suddenly nervous. "I don't know – none of my books said anything about that!"

Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Well, it looks like no one knows. Can't be too bad, then, and it's not like anyone else is going to do any better than us. Fred reckons it hurts a lot, but he's probably just winding me up. You'll be fine, Hermione."

The four of them relaxed, even as their yearmates seemed more and more anxious.

Then something happened that made them jump about a foot in the air – several people behind them even screamed.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance – "

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Ron, still feeling almost invincible after the train journey, actually answered.

"We're the new first years. Are you really ghosts?"

The ghost nodded, and then bowed floridly. "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service. I am indeed a ghost, as are my companions here. You're about to be Sorted, I presume?"

Ron nodded. "What actually happens when we get Sorted? Do we have to pass a test? Does it hurt?"

Sir Nicholas laughed, along with the other ghosts. "Not at all, not at all – rest assured, the Sorting doesn't hurt at all. There isn't any test to pass, either – you'll just be Sorted into the House where you belong."

Ron thanked the aristocratic ghost, just as Professor McGonagall returned.

"Move along, now – the Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling rather peaceful, the quartet joined the line together. They walked out of the chamber, back across the entrance hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

None of the four had ever seen such a strange and splendid place, although Ron had heard at least some true things about it in amongst the stories told by his brothers, and Hermione had read about it. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. In front of the first years, Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool near the edge of the raised platform that they and the teachers' table stood on. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in her house.

As they stared at the hat, a rip opened near its brim and it began to sing. The Four frankly stared as it sang a song about itself and about the Houses into which it would apparently be Sorting them.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song - apparently this was normal. It bowed in turn to each of the four tables, and then became quite still again. Professor McGonagall stepped forward then, holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause - "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

Hannah went to the Hufflepuff table as Professor McGonagall called the next name ("Bones, Susan"), and so on through the list. Sometimes the hat shouted out the House almost at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. All four of them wondered about that, but none of them had any real idea what it meant. As they wondered, Professor McGonagall came to "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione walked forward a bit woodenly, unable to banish her fears completely. She put the hat on her head as she sat down, and she heard a strange voice in her head. It sounded somehow warm and dry and a little bit musty, and she instantly decided that she rather liked it.

"Oh, my! You, Miss Granger, have outright the best mind I've encountered in quite some years. You will achieve greatness, mark my words, but the different Houses will shape you differently – a great Slytherin and a great Hufflepuff are very different creatures, to be sure. I think we can rule out Slytherin for a start – you already dislike that House, and you certainly wouldn't be receptive to the lessons you would learn there. You would do well in Hufflepuff, but I feel that you would be helping Hufflepuff rather more than it could help you – no, no, that won't do at all. Ravenclaw is the obvious place to put you, with the quality of mind you have, but that seems somehow wrong... Oh yes, that's right! A Ravenclaw loves knowledge for its own sake, but your driving ambition is to prove yourself. That means Slytherin or Gryffindor, and we already know I won't send you to Slytherin. I suppose that means... GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted out loud, and Hermione jumped. She recovered herself, and left the hat neatly on the chair as she walked to the loudly cheering Gryffindor table.

A few students further down the list, it was Neville's turn. He tried to appear calm, and he mostly succeeded, but he did fumble the hat somewhat as he put it on his head. He heard a voice which to him sounded somehow stifling and oppressive. He flinched involuntarily.

"Ah, Mr Longbottom. Your timing is exquisite – had I to sort you as you were even yesterday, I might well have put you in Hufflepuff. You would do well there, no doubt, but you proved today that you belong elsewhere. You have set yourself on a path, young man – I encourage you to stick to it, and therefore I shall send you to... GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville hastily pulled the hat off his head, then dropped it on the stool as he almost ran to the Gryffindor table.

The Sorting continued, with students unknown to the Four. They weren't at all surprised to see Draco Malfoy go to Slytherin, nor that his two nameless bodyguards were already there waiting for him. And then:

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Interesting, Mr Potter, interesting indeed. Not a bad mind, but you're not driven by any grand desire to _know_ – you're much more interested in what you might _be_. You are driven, Mr Potter, by a desire to prove yourself – that's a very Gryffindor thing, but also a very Slytherin thing. You share this desire with Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom, and I suppose you share it with Mr Weasley also. If you share their quest, then I suppose you must also share their House – better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry jumped up, pausing only to drop the hat back on the stool before outright sprinting to the Gryffindor table to join Hermione and Neville. He was grinning wildly, elated. His attention all on his friends, he hardly even noticed the pompous welcome he received from an older redhead – another Weasley, perhaps?

Ron, meanwhile, was standing in the dwindling line of first years. No matter how much he told himself he was sure to end up in Gryffindor, he couldn't help but worry that he would be separated from his new friends. He watched anxiously as a few more students were sorted, and was actually rather relieved when his own name was called. He walked forward and sat down heavily, dropping the hat on his head.

"Ah, Mr Weasley – I've been waiting for you. I believe you want to go to Gryffindor, and it's clear you have the courage for it. Shall we make it Gryffindor, then?"

Ron mentally nodded, a strange sensation.

"Good," the hat said. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron dropped the hat back on the stool, and staggered towards the Gryffindor table. Silly or not, he had seen his whole life depending on that decision – small wonder that he was shaking now. He joined the other three, who had somehow managed to get seats together and save room for him. They welcomed him excitedly as he sat down between Hermione and Neville. They watched the last two students Sorted, and then the tall and ancient wizard in the middle of the teachers' table stood up and raised his hands for silence. He had long white hair and a long white beard, and the Four all recognised him as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore – they had talked about him, in the long hours on the Hogwarts Express.

Dumbledore was beaming, looking as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everyone clapped and cheered. Harry turned to Hermione.

"So, Hermione. Did any of your books mention the Headmaster being insane?"

She shook her head, looking just as disconcerted as he did, but then Ron chimed in:

"Oh, he's mad alright – didn't I mention that? Absolute genius, most powerful wizard in the world, but completely mental. This is pretty normal for him, from what my brothers have told me."

"Plus," said Neville thoughtfully, "right now is when he tries to make exactly the impression he wants to make on the first years. There's more to him behind that weirdness, I'd bet, but I don't know what it is."

The other three suddenly looked thoughtful also, but a moment later they forgot all about that as the table in front of them was abruptly filled with food. They tucked in with gusto, far too busy to say anything more.

After he had eaten his fill (as much as his stomach could hold), Harry sat back contentedly and began to take an interest in his surroundings. Neville, Ron and Hermione were still eating, although Hermione was chatting to the older redhead beside her. On the staff table, Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were in what seemed to be casual conversation. Professor Quirrell, back turned, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Judging from the look on the hook-nosed professor, their conversation was rather less casual. As Harry began to wonder about this, the hook-nosed professor looked past Professor Quirrell and Harry suddenly felt a sharp, hot pain shoot across his scar.

"Ow!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

Neville, sitting next to him, turned in concern. "What is it?"

Harry shook his head to clear it, as the pain faded. "Pain in my scar – first time it's ever happened. Who's the black-haired professor talking to Professor Quirrell?"

Neville frowned. "I think that's Professor Snape, who teaches Potions. Do you think he had something to do with it?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno – all I know is that it happened when I almost caught his eye."

Neville nodded. "Fair enough. I don't really have any ideas, but we probably should tell Ron and Hermione when we get the chance – this is weird even for the wizarding world, and it could be serious. Plus, Hermione might know something."

Harry nodded. "Good thinking."

A moment later, the remaining dessert dishes disappeared from the table, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, who bowed as extravagantly as they could without actually standing up.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry and Neville exchanged a glance, and Neville shrugged. On Neville's other side, Ron was assuring Hermione that Dumbledore probably was serious. Hermione seemed doubtful, to say the least. This doubt turned to bemusement as they all sang the school song, with bizarre words and all different tunes – she really didn't know what to think anymore.

The Four, along with the rest of the Gryffindor first-years, followed the older redhead (Percy Weasley, apparently) through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up a marble staircase. They all stumbled somewhat, exhausted and more than ready for sleep. They paid no attention to the bewildering maze through which Percy led them, and barely raised an eyebrow at the talking portrait who demanded a password before swinging forward to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. They did all note the password, though - "caput draconis". None of them wanted to be locked out of their common room. The common room itself was a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs. It felt somehow welcoming to all of them, though they were only vaguely aware of it at the time.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory, and the boys through another. At the tops of two spiral staircases – they were obviously in two towers – they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep-red velvet curtains in the girls' dorm, and the same in the boys'. Their trunks had already been brought up, and boys and girls alike changed quickly into pyjamas and collapsed into bed.


	3. Chapter Three: First Monday

**Chapter Three: First Monday**

At breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning, the Four were reading the timetables that Professor McGonagall had just given them. Their timetables were all the same, of course, since they were all first-year Gryffindors and they wouldn't have any electives until third year.

"That's weird," said Harry. "Do we really have all our classes with the Slytherins?"

"Not all, but definitely Potions and Flying," said one of the Weasley twins from the other side of Ron. "How else would the school make sure that we all hate the Slytherins properly?"

Hermione glared at the twin, who grinned at her unrepentantly. "You'll learn, Hermione, you'll learn."

The other twin nodded emphatically. "And you start with Potions, too - as dastardly plots go, that's not even subtle. Snape teaches Potions - he's a greasy git, but more importantly he's the Slytherin Head of House and he hates Gryffindor. He's always really unfair - favours his own house and picks on the others, and no one ever listens if you complain."

"Yeah," said the first twin. "Seriously, be careful around Snape. You really don't want him angry."

"Well," said the other twin, "you don't want him angry if he can hurt you, anyway. Judicious pranking is a different matter entirely, at least for anyone who can cover their tracks properly."

Hermione looked scandalised, but said nothing.

The Four made sure to show up very early for Potions, still hoping they could avoid getting on Professor Snape's bad side. As they stood alone outside the locked door, Draco Malfoy and his two goons swaggered up.

"Trying to suck up before you've even started your first class, Potter? See, I told you the mudblood and the blood traitors would be a bad influence."

Ron and Neville glanced at each other, then nodded. They each took a step towards Malfoy and the Goons, then Neville addressed Malfoy quietly.

"Malfoy, let's get one thing straight. The word 'mudblood' is not acceptable, and neither is 'blood traitor'."

Malfoy laughed, and the Goons loomed on either side of him.

"What are you going to do about it, Longbottom?"

Neville shrugged. "Tell a teacher every time you use those words. I'm not going to start fights with you, if that's what you were hoping."

"Dobbing, Longbottom?" said Malfoy. "Way to have no friends."

Harry cleared his throat meaningfully, but it was Hermione who spoke.

"For your information, Malfoy, Neville _has_ friends. We're standing right here, or at least some of us are. We won't be bullied, and we won't let anyone bully Neville!"

Malfoy took a step backwards, then realised what he'd done and hastily stepped forward again. He glared at Hermione, but seemed lost for words.

"Is there a problem?"

The four Gryffindors whirled to face the now-open door, staring up at the malevolent figure who had spoken. Ron found his voice first.

"Malfoy called Hermione a mudblood and me and Neville blood traitors, Professor. Again. We were just explaining that that wasn't OK."

"Threatening my student, Weasley? Five points from Gryffindor, and be glad it isn't more."

Ron opened his mouth to protest the unfairness of this, but Neville and Hermione grabbed his shoulders and he subsided.

The Four followed Snape and the three Slytherins into the Potions classroom, with the other Gryffindors and Slytherins trailing behind. They sat at two double-desks next to each other, and quietly got out their books - Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione touched his shoulder and he thought better of it.

As the last of the Slytherins walked in and sat down, Snape stood up at the front of the room to take the roll. He glared at Hermione and Neville when they answered, but said nothing more. When he came to Harry, however, he paused.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity_."

Malfoy and the Goons laughed out loud, and a few of the other Slytherins sniggered. Harry just shrugged. "Present."

Snape left it at that, and finished marking the roll - Ron got the same glare as Neville and Hermione, which surprised no one.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape said softly. His voice held a passion which they hadn't heard from him before this. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

After a few seconds' silence, Snape turned to Harry. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

Harry turned to exchange a glance with Neville, but Snape wasn't finished.  
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry shrugged again, ignoring the laughter of Malfoy and the Goons. "I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh Potter?"

Harry fought to keep his temper - somehow, Snape was getting to him in a way that even the Dursleys hadn't managed in years. Snape, meanwhile, continued.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know, sir." said Harry. "This is my first class, and you haven't actually taught me anything yet, so I'm afraid I don't know very much about potions."

"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter. Any more insolence from you, and it'll be detention."

Harry frankly stared at Snape, but Neville's hand on his shoulder calmed him enough to not say anything more. Snape continued.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, and the Gryffindors and some of the Slytherins scribbled madly - Draco and his goons didn't bother to rush, but Snape somehow seemed not to notice.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all in pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. The Four worked quietly at two adjacent cauldrons, trying hard not to attract Snape's attention - all four were furious, but between them they had enough sense to avoid further trouble for now. The rest of the period passed without incident, and the four of them fled upstairs as soon as they were released.

As they reached the top of the first staircase, Hermione glanced around them to make sure there was no one within earshot.

"Can you believe that? There's no way that's allowed! We should report him, we really should."

"We should talk about it first," said Neville, "he has a lot of power in the school. He's head of Slytherin, don't forget."

"Yeah," said Ron. "And Fred and George have always said he was completely unfair - we can't be the first people to complain, and it doesn't look like anyone else got any results."

Harry nodded. "True, but is it normal for him to pick on one person the way he picked on me? I think that might be something different from normal, and maybe we can get somewhere complaining about that. I think we should, anyway. Who should we speak to?"

"Professor McGonagall," said Hermione. "She's our Head of House, and she's also the Deputy Headmistress - she probably is the person in charge of this, and if not then she can send us to whoever is in charge. Which would probably be Professor Dumbledore, but I'd prefer not to go to him to start with."

"So, after Defence?" said Neville.

"No, after lunch," said Ron.

The others agreed, and they continued walking towards the Defence classroom.

Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell turned out to be a bit of a joke; Quirrell spent the lesson reading straight from the textbook, paying very little attention to the students in front of him. Hermione, who had already read and memorised the textbook, stared at him in disbelief for a few minutes before giving up and starting to work on something else entirely. The three boys, who hadn't memorised the textbook, tried to pay attention to Quirrell's dry monologue.

At lunch the four of them sat together at one end of the Gryffindor table, agonising over what they should say to Professor McGonagall. In the end, they decided that they should just tell her everything - none of them had done anything wrong, after all, and Snape definitely had done wrong. As Professor McGonagall walked out of the hall, Harry approached her.

"Professor McGonagall, could we talk to you? In private? It's important."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, but nodded. "Very well. Follow me."

She led them to her office, closing the door behind them before sitting down behind her desk.

"Now," she said, "how can I help you?"

They glanced at each other uncertainly for a moment, before Hermione took the lead.

"We're here to report an abusive professor."

McGonagall actually gasped. "I'm sorry?"

Harry stepped forward, meeting her eyes calmly. "In our first class, Potions, Professor Snape singled me out to pick on. He started before I even said anything. He mocked me as a 'celebrity' when he called my name in the roll, and after that he asked me some difficult questions and mocked me for not knowing the answers. When I said that it was my first class and I didn't know anything much yet, he took 5 points off Gryffindor. Well, to be fair, I did say that he hadn't taught me anything yet. But he hadn't! He hadn't even started the lesson yet! Also he took 5 points off Ron before class for threatening Draco Malfoy, which Ron didn't do."

Professor McGonagall sat back in her chair.

"And if I investigate this incident, are you all sure that I won't find out you've accidentally left out some important details which make Professor Snape's actions entirely reasonable?"

The Four nodded, and Hermione raised her hand slightly.

"Professor, I can write out the whole thing now if you like - every word that Professor Snape said, every word that we said, and even every word that Draco Malfoy said, from when Draco arrived before class to when we left the classroom."

McGonagall looked sceptical, but nodded and waved Hermione to a seat at the side of her desk. Hermione pulled parchment, quill and ink from her book bag, and began to write. McGonagall watched in something approaching disbelief, as did the three boys - they knew Hermione had a good memory, but this was a surprise.

A few minutes later, Hermione handed the parchment to Professor McGonagall. She skimmed it rapidly, keeping her face perfectly still, and then handed it to Harry.

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom. Is this an accurate record?"

The three of them read the parchment, then Harry spoke for all of them. "Yes."

The stern old witch closed her eyes for a few seconds, seeming somehow to deflate. Then her eyes snapped open, and she spoke decisively as she stood up.

"Very well. Follow me - this is out of my hands."

She led them out of her office, and down assorted corridors until she reached a doorway guarded by two stone gargoyles.

"Lemon sherbert," she murmured, and they sprang aside. She stepped through where the gargoyles had been, and the first-years followed her onto a moving spiral staircase. At the top of the staircase she knocked on an age-blackened wooden door, and the Headmaster's voice called them to enter.

Inside, the ancient wizard smiled genially. "And to what do I owe this visit?"

McGonagall was having none of it. "Albus, this is serious. These first-years are filing a formal complaint against Severus." She handed Hermione's transcript to Dumbledore.

"Come now," said Dumbledore, "surely there's more to the story than this. I've seen this sort of thing before, you know, and in my experience there's always another side that isn't being told."

McGonagall frowned. "Miss Granger wrote that document in front of me, rapidly and without hesitation. All four of them agree that it is accurate. I'm afraid we must believe it, Albus."

He shook his head, then fixed his gaze on Hermione.

"Impressive as your memory no doubt is, Miss Granger, I'm afraid that I cannot trust it for details in a situation like this. There are magical means of obtaining the full story from you, however - are you sufficiently confident in your story, that you would be willing to have it verified?"

Hermione flinched. "Will it hurt?"

"No, Miss Granger, it will not hurt you."

"I'll do it, then. What do I need to do?"

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised - he hadn't expected her to follow through, but he had made an offer and he couldn't now withdraw it. He opened a cupboard and lifted out a strange stone bowl, whose shimmering contents moved strangely as he transferred the bowl to his desk.

"Minerva, if you would?"

Professor McGonagall walked over to stand beside Hermione, drawing her wand as she did so.

"Hermione, I need you to think about that Potions lesson. It's very important that you're clear about where the memory starts and stops, so that the Headmaster and I only see what we need to see."

Hermione nodded, and McGonagall touched her wand to the girl's temple and drew out a glowing wisp. She deftly flicked the wisp into the stone bowl, where it made the surface of the liquid flash white for a moment before fading to show the Four standing outside the Potions classroom a few hours earlier. Dumbledore waved his wand and the scene became audible, and they all gathered around to watch as events played out.

When Snape had answered his own questions, Harry interrupted. "That's all, Professors - after that it's just general unfairness to Gryffindors and favouring Slytherins."

Minerva gave Albus a hard look. "Albus, we can't ignore this."

The old man sighed. "I know, Minerva, I know."

He turned to the Four. "Harry, Ron, I apologise for your mistreatment at the hands of one of my staff members. I will restore double the points that Professor Snape took - twenty points to Gryffindor. Harry, you will receive a public apology from Professor Snape at dinner this evening. All of you, please report any further incidents to me or to Professor McGonagall. Thank you."

Professor McGonagall led the four first-years from the Headmaster's office, down the spiral staircase.

"Well done, all of you. Had you reacted to the provocations, I would have been unable to help you - as it was, your behaviour was impeccable and my job was made quite simple."

"Thank you, Professor," chorused the four of them. They walked off together, leaving a rather thoughtful Deputy Headmistress in their wake.

Hermione broke the silence.

"Well, at least we can trust Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. We'll just have to be very careful around Professor Snape."

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Neville quietly. "We had a perfect case, and McGonagall still had to bully Dumbledore into doing anything about it."

Hermione bit back the first reply that sprang to mind, and forced herself to stop and think for a moment. "You may be right - I suppose we should be a little careful of Professor Dumbledore as well."

"We still mostly have to rely on ourselves," said Harry. "I mean, look at how perfect we had to be this morning, just to have a chance of Dumbledore taking our side."

"Yeah," said Ron. "This is the first thing we need to do as the Four - we need to protect ourselves from Snape and people like him. We need to control our tempers really well - I know I need to work on that - and I guess we can help each other with that like we did this morning. But really, I think what we need to do is grow up fast."

Harry nodded. "My childhood hasn't exactly been great - I wouldn't exactly mind getting away from it sooner rather than later. How about you?"

"Same for me," said Neville.

"OK," said Ron.

"I suppose so," said Hermione.

They found an empty classroom, not too rare in Hogwarts, and settled in to make plans. They quickly adopted Ron's suggestion of working on physical fitness, though he did wince when Hermione talked them all into making that an early morning activity. They agreed to study together, and to make sure that all four of them were totally solid on everything they were supposed to know. They also agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to Ron's suggestion that they learn to fight, both with and without magic. They even agreed to Neville's suggestion that they should find a trustworthy teacher and ask for help - they agreed to wait until they'd met all their teachers before deciding on who to ask. They spent some time planning - Hermione even drew up a rough study timetable for them - and then they studied Potions and Defence until dinner.

In the Great Hall, after all the students were seated but before the food had appeared, the Headmaster stood and raised his hands for silence. When he had the Hall's attention, he gestured to Snape.

"Professor Snape wishes to say something to you all."

Snape stood up stiffly. When he spoke, his words seemed to lack the rhythms of normal human speech - it was clearly a prepared speech, and equally clearly he wasn't happy about it.

"I wish to apologise to Harry Potter, for my unfair and unprofessional treatment of him in Potions class this morning."

He immediately sat down again, as the students started excitedly discussing this latest news.

At the Gryffindor table, the Four were jubilant. This was proof that, if they were careful enough, the authorities at Hogwarts would protect them. Well, at least the authorities would take their side afterwards.


	4. Chapter Four: First Tuesday

**Author's note: **The game called "it" in this chapter is better-known elsewhere as "tag", and is known by many other names besides. I had to look up the correct name to use here - personally I grew up calling it "tiggy", although the person doing the chasing was still "it".

**Chapter Four: First Tuesday**

The next morning, the three boys were woken at 7 by an unnaturally cheerful Hermione. It took her a good 10 minutes to bully them all out of bed, but they did feel much better once they got outside and started running. They jogged comfortably at first, not wanting to work too hard, but then Ron suggested a game of "it" and all restraint disappeared. Half an hour later they collapsed on the ground, happy but exhausted.

"Why don't we do this every morning?" asked Hermione. "As our exercise, I mean - it tires us out properly, and it's not miserable."

They agreed, then headed inside to shower and get dressed before an early breakfast.

The Four showed up early to their first class, Charms with Professor Flitwick. Flitwick was there already, and grinned excitedly as he waved them into the room.

"Ah, keen students! Good to see, good to see. Hmm... Harry Potter, of course - could hardly fail to recognise you, young man. And you could only be a Weasley, which makes you Ron Weasley. You must be Neville Longbottom - you look a great deal like Frank did at your age, with just a hint of Alice to you. But as for you, young lady, I'm afraid I can't place you at all."

"I'm Hermione Granger. My parents are Muggles."

"Ah, that explains it. Welcome to my classroom, Miss Granger, and rest assured that the magical status of your parents makes no difference that I'm aware of to your own magical potential. I'm half-goblin myself, mind you - I certainly have no time for the pureblood nonsense. I heard about your conflict with Draco Malfoy yesterday - well done all of you for standing up and rejecting that poison outright."

Somewhat stunned, the Four inclined their heads politely. Flitwick waved his wand at the closed door and then continued.

"You four are here well over quarter of an hour early, and you're definitely here together. To me that suggests a defined fellowship, rather than a normal group of friends. Am I correct, and if so then might I know your task?"

The Four were frankly staring at the tiny professor. Hermione found her voice first.

"Y-yes, I suppose you could say that. We all have something to prove: Harry that he's more than just the Boy-Who-Lived, Neville that he's not a failure next to his father, Ron that he's not a failure next to his older brothers, and me that I'm not a failure because I'm a Muggleborn. Our task, such as it is, is to work together and become strong. Um... How did you know?"

Flitwick smiled.

"I pay attention, Miss Granger, and I think about the world a great deal more than I usually let on."

Hermione nodded, and the Professor continued.

"When you say 'strong', what exactly do you mean? That is, what are you trying to make of yourselves?"

"Um... Everything, really. So we're working on physical fitness, and we'll work on physical and magical fighting, and we'll also study everything for all our subjects here at Hogwarts, and I guess we'll try to understand how magic works also."

"Excellent! I can't recall the last time I heard such a clear intent to excel. The nearest example would probably be the Marauders - that's your father, Mr Potter, and his friends. The Weasley twins are shaping up similarly now, but I've never heard anyone so clear in the first week of their Hogwarts career. Please feel free to come to me with any questions - I would be delighted to help you."

The Four all stammered their thanks.

A moment later, Professor Flitwick looked up and waved his wand at the door. It opened, and a surprised-looking Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown walked in. Flitwick retreated to the front of the room, and the Four talked quietly among themselves as the rest of the Gryffindor first-years trickled in in ones and twos. When they were all present, Flitwick closed the door and began rollcall. That done, he stood on his desk and beamed at them all.

"Welcome to Charms!"

A jet of water shot out from his wand, before separating into droplets which froze solid and hung in midair. These frozen droplets then whirled and danced in a complex pattern as they expanded, their sides seeming somehow to be pushed outwards by coloured lights within. Then the spheres shattered, leaving a haze of ice crystals in the air between Professor Flitwick and the class. The colours had transferred to the ice, and in the haze the class saw a vivid rainbow. After a stunned pause, they applauded wildly - most of them had never seen anything like it.

A stack of feathers on Flitwick's desk suddenly distributed itself to the students, and he began to teach them the Levitation Charm. Soon the room was a din of _"wingardium leviosa!"_, as the students tried and failed to make the feather do their bidding. Quite a few students managed to make the feather do other things, most commonly fall off their desks onto the floor, but control was difficult. The Four worked together, rapidly converging on the correct way to perform the spell. Near the end of the lesson, Hermione was the first to make her feather hover in the air - on the first success it only hovered for a few seconds before flying off in a random direction, but Professor Flitwick was overjoyed.

"Well done, Miss Granger, well done! I haven't had a student learn that charm so quickly since Lily Evans a few decades ago, and even she probably wasn't quite so quick as you. Ten points to Gryffindor! Excellent work!"

The three boys copied Hermione's successful attempt, and by the end of class all four of them could comfortably keep the feather steady for as long as they liked. Just as Hermione was looking around for a heavier object to levitate, Professor Flitwick interrupted the class.

"OK, that's all we have time for today. I'll see you all on Thursday morning, and we'll continue working on the Levitation Charm. Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, Granger, could you stay back for a moment? I'll write a note to Professor Binns to excuse your lateness if necessary."

The Four stayed in their seats as the rest of the class filed out. When the room was empty except for Flitwick and the Four, the tiny professor closed and locked the door with a wave of his wand.

"Very well done, all of you - very well done indeed! I've no doubt you're all quite talented individually, but I couldn't see that at all today - all I could see was your teamwork, which is truly first-rate. Now, we don't have long before my fifth-years arrive, but I wanted to talk to you briefly before I let you go. You're all going to be very bored quite soon if I don't let you race ahead of the rest of the class, but I can't teach two completely different classes at the same time. Instead, I offer this compromise: if you all spend your classtime on Tuesday and Thursday mornings helping your classmates with the standard curriculum, I will tutor you to your full capacity on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Your classmates will benefit greatly, you four will learn the standard first-year material very thoroughly, and you'll probably reach OWL level in Charms by the end of the year. And if at any stage you change your minds, you can always go back to standard classwork and have your afternoons free again."

The Four quickly agreed to the plan, arranging to meet back in the Charms classroom at 3:30 that afternoon, and then they scampered off to History of Magic with an excuse note from Professor Flitwick.

History of Magic turned out to be, if anything, a more obvious waste of time than Defence Against the Dark Arts. The teacher, Professor Binns, was a ghost. He droned on and on, reciting word for word the contents of their centuries-old textbook. He was already doing so when the Four reached his classroom, and didn't even seem to notice their arrival. After a brief colloquy conducted entirely in meaningful glances, the Four decided not to interrupt him. They weren't in trouble for being late, so why bother?

After a few minutes of droning boredom, Ron decided to find out how much attention Binns actually paid to his classroom. Ron was now committed to taking his life seriously, but that didn't mean he had to sit quietly and waste his time just because the school told him to. He tried a subtle wave of his hand, altering it partway to rub his nose instead. The droning continued uninterrupted. Ron's tests grew more and more blatant, only stopping when actually slipping out of his seat and sitting on the floor had no effect. His friends' reactions ranged from amused to horrified at his antics, but they all became serious when he gestured towards the door and raised his eyebrows. After a brief non-verbal argument, which Hermione lost, the four of them quietly slipped out of the room. Their classmates, mostly asleep or at least half-asleep, hadn't noticed their arrival and didn't notice their departure - Dean Thomas would later comment to Seamus Finnigan that the Four hadn't shown up to History of Magic, but otherwise no one noticed.

Once outside, the Four headed to the empty classroom which they had used the previous day - it was empty again, and the dust suggested that this room had probably been empty for some time. Hermione was the last in, and she shut the door behind her before turning to tell her boys off.

"You can't just walk out of a class! You just can't!"

"Hermione, we just did," said Ron calmly. "No one cares except you. Sorry."

As Hermione sputtered, Neville put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione, normally I'd agree with you here. School's important, and we have to take it seriously. We have to follow the rules, and we have to work hard. This is different, though - that class really is a complete waste of time, and we've got much better things to do with our time. It looks like we won't get in trouble for skipping it, and I really think that's what we should do. We'll use this time to study History of Magic and nothing else, if that makes you feel any better. Actually that's a brilliant idea, because it'll give us a solid defence if someone like Professor McGonagall does eventually notice and ask us why we haven't been going to that class. OK?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly, and they started studying History of Magic. A few minutes later, Ron suddenly jumped.

"How will we know about essays, if we don't go to class?"

Before Hermione could say anything, Neville answered him.

"We'll ask Dean and Seamus, or maybe Parvati. Good point, though. We should also show up for the start of each lesson - partly in case there actually is rollcall, and partly to hand in any essays."

They all agreed that that was reasonable, and carried on studying until it was time for lunch.

As the Four were eating lunch, Dean and Seamus walked up to the table.

"Did you guys really not show up to History of Magic?" asked Dean.

"Well, sorta," said Ron. "We got there late, and then we left once we figured out that Binns wasn't going to notice anyway."

Dean and Seamus looked very impressed.

"Wish I could do the same," said Seamus. "Can't though, me mam'd kill me. And seriously, what are you going to do when McGonagall finds out?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, first up we're hoping McGonagall doesn't find out. If she does, though, we'll just tell her we've been studying on our own instead - we actually did spend the time studying History of Magic, and we're going to every time. Er... That reminds me though, can we count on you guys to let us know when Binns sets essays?"

Dean grinned. "Sure. Worth it for us anyway, just to see what happens to you when you do get caught."

Ron grinned back at Dean, ignoring Hermione's half-hearted glare.

"Did he mark the roll?" said Harry.

Seamus shook his head. "How could he? Can't hold a quill, can he? Honestly mate, he barely even noticed we were there - he just started talking as we were coming in. I reckon I could have waved me arms around and done a dance and he'd not have noticed."

Ron grinned. "Yeah, I tested that."

Dean and Seamus stared at him.

"You did what?" said Dean incredulously.

"Well, I didn't exactly do a dance. I did wave my arms around, though. That was when I realised that Binns didn't have a clue, so we left."

"Bloody hell," said Dean. "You're my hero, mate. If you don't get ripped apart by McGonagall by next week, I just might join you."

Hermione looked disapproving, but let it pass without comment.

They studied Charms after lunch in what they had already come to think of as their study room. After trying everything they could think of with the Levitation charm, including levitating each other (which partially worked), they moved onto the Wand-Lighting Charm. This proved easy for them, and they were working on the sunbeam variant "Lumos Solem" when it came time to go to Flitwick. They went, feeling quite pleased with themselves.

Professor Flitwick seemed delighted to see them.

"Welcome, welcome! Have you made any progress since this morning?"

Hermione beamed. "We worked on the Levitation Charm until we ran out of things to try, then we learned the Wand-Lighting Charm and practised that, and we were working on Lumos Solem when we ran out of time."

Professor Flitwick stared at her for a long moment, dumbstruck.

"Miss Granger, could you please levitate this ink bottle? Don't worry, I'll catch it if necessary."

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The ink bottle hung steady in the air, three feet above Flitwick's head. Hermione brought the bottle back down to the desk, smoothly and gently.

"And you boys?"

One by one the boys performed the same task - they didn't all have perfect control like Hermione's, but the ink bottle was never in any danger of smashing.

"Could you all demonstrate the Wand-Lighting Charm?"

_"Lumos!" _and four wand-tips were glowing softly.

Professor Flitwick was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Amazing! I've never seen anything like this, not at all. I shall be very interested to see just how rapidly you progress in this subject."

They learned even faster with Professor Flitwick than they did on their own, and raced through the early parts of the curriculum. The spells didn't necessarily work immediately, of course - no one was that good - but the Four worked together extremely well to figure them out. They all had different basic styles and flaws: Ron was bold but messy, Hermione already knew the textbook word for word but tended to be a bit stilted, Neville was understated and sometimes needed encouragement to cast clearly, and Harry was dextrous but inconsistent. Between them, though, they could converge on the correct technique very quickly. And once one of them had cast a spell successfully, the others could get it very quickly. With Professor Flitwick as a reliable model to begin with, the Four learned spells at a breathtaking rate. They would all need to spend time later practising and the boys would need to spend time memorising the spells, but a glance at a book (or a word from Hermione) would be all that any of them ever needed to remind themselves of any spell that they had ever cast successfully.

At the end of the period, Professor Flitwick addressed the Four seriously.

"Based on what I've seen today, you four have the potential to be the greatest Charms prodigies that Britain has seen in my lifetime at least. I was a prodigy myself, but nothing like this - the same goes for Albus Dumbledore, for that matter, though his genius ran more to Transfiguration. I have taught prodigies, including your mother, Harry. None could come close to this on their second day of classes.

"I have watched many prodigies, in my field and in others. Almost without exception, in their work as prodigies they were solitary geniuses - understandable, since no one else could keep up with them, or even cared to try very hard. The Weasley twins show signs of shared excellence, and arguably the Marauders did so to some extent at a later age, but your situation is completely unprecedented. I honestly do not know what you four can truly accomplish - quite simply, I have no example by which to judge you. You will understand, I hope, why I am so interested in your progress."

The Four all nodded excitedly, and he went on.

"This being only your second day of classes, I should perhaps ask: is this talent of yours specific to Charms, do you know?"

The Four all shook their heads, and Hermione spoke for them.

"No, Professor. We aim to excel in all of our classes, and we think we can. We've spent a bit more time on Charms and of course it makes a big difference to have this extra help from you, but I don't think there's anything special about Charms for us."

Flitwick looked thoughtful for a moment, then waved his wand absently. A piece of parchment appeared in his hand, and he glanced at it.

"By lunchtime on Thursday you should have had at least one session for each subject, correct?"

"Yes," said Harry, "though Transfiguration gets short-changed a bit there - we'll have studied everything else ourselves, but our first study session for Transfiguration is Thursday evening."

Flitwick nodded.

"Very well, I'll allow for that. When we meet for our private Charms session on Thursday afternoon, though, I suggest that we talk seriously about your academic options here at Hogwarts. If you perform in your other classes as you have in mine, then I suspect we may be able to give you a great deal more freedom and opportunity. This would have obvious social consequences, of course - you should think about that over the next few days, and decide whether you are willing to sacrifice the companionship of your current classmates in order to pursue academic excellence."

Hermione opened her mouth to assure Professor Flitwick that that wouldn't be a problem, but Neville laid a hand on her shoulder and she subsided. They walked to the Great Hall with Flitwick, chatting about prodigies he had known.


	5. Chapter Five: First Wednesday

**Author's Note:** I seriously considered toning down Harry's performance in this chapter, but on reflection I don't think it's any more extreme than in canon - the only difference is that I'm not ignoring the likely implications of such skill. I am in awe of JK Rowling's powers of imagination and storytelling, mind you, but I will note her tendency to invent things for convenience and then ignore them whenever they'd be inconvenient. See eg. Fawkes, Time-Turners, and all the other overpowered-but-overlooked elements in the series.

**Chapter Five: First Wednesday**

The Four weren't sure what to expect in Potions the next morning, but were mentally prepared for anything short of outright war. They had spent the previous evening studying Potions instead of History - they were fairly sure they would be brewing the Forgetfulness Potion today, so they had spent hours learning everything there was to know about it. They had promised each other that they would stay calm no matter what, and had promised to restrain each other if necessary.

They arrived early, of course, chatting amiably as they waited in the otherwise-deserted corridor. Next to arrive were Draco Malfoy and his goons, which surprised no one - the Four exchanged glances, but continued their conversation. Malfoy, of course, couldn't leave it at that.

"Still determined to be a loser, Potter?" he asked.

"Sure," said Harry, "why not?"

This stumped Draco for a moment, but he rallied quickly.

"Don't you have any pride, Potter?"

Harry shrugged.

"Is pride why you keep making a fool of yourself? If so then I'm not sure I want any, thanks."

Draco sputtered incoherently, but couldn't think of anything witty to say in response. Crabbe and Goyle loomed vigorously, but the Four ignored them. After a few seconds, Harry turned to Draco.

"Draco," he said quietly, "I really don't like you. You really don't like me either, so we're definitely not going to be friends anytime soon. But do we really need to do this every time we meet? What have I done to make you care this much about me? What makes me worth this much effort?"

Harry, it should be noted, had taken some advice from Neville since the previous Potions lesson. Draco, meanwhile, said nothing. He and his friends walked a few feet down the corridor and stood awkwardly facing away from the Four as they all waited for the door to open.

"Thanks, Neville," said Harry quietly.

"No problem."

Some minutes later, the door opened.

"Enter," came Snape's voice from within. The Four did so, trailed by Draco and his friends. They all sat and waited for the rest of the class to arrive. Determined not to give Snape any excuse to punish them, the Four didn't say a word as they waited - as agreed, they just read over their notes for the Forgetfulness Potion. Snape sat behind his desk at the front of the room and said nothing.

When the rest of the class had arrived and sat down, Snape waved his wand and instructions appeared on the board. The Four had guessed correctly - it was the Forgetfulness Potion.

"Well?" said Snape. "What are you all waiting for? Get to work!"

As the class scurried into action, Hermione was glaring at the instructions on the board. She laid a hand on Neville's shoulder as he was about to go and fetch their ingredients, and spoke softly so that Snape wouldn't hear.

"Neville, get four Valerian sprigs as well."

Neville looked startled, but nodded before walking away towards the ingredients cupboard.

Harry frowned.

"We should probably leave out the pinch of powdered Erumpent horn, yeah?"

Hermione nodded.

"He's given us a potion that would blow up in our faces. Literally. What's more, it would probably affect our memory when it hit us."

As Neville returned with their ingredients, Ron raised his hand. Surprisingly, Snape actually responded.

"Yes, Weasley?"

"Professor," said Ron politely, "why do your instructions call for Erumpent horn and no Valerian sprigs?"

"Five points from Gryffindor for cheek - one more word and I'll take another ten."

As Hermione, Ron and Neville set about correctly preparing two batches of the potion, Harry stood up and raised his voice so that the whole class could hear him clearly.  
"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but the instructions on the board will make the potion blow up in your face and probably wipe your memory. Check your textbooks, and be very careful."

He sat down again, turning to help Neville with their potion.

Snape, at the front of the room, was too angry to speak. When he brought himself under control sufficiently to speak clearly, he did so.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor, Potter, and detention for a month."

Harry didn't bother to answer - he didn't even glance up from his cauldron. Obviously he would go to McGonagall about this, and obviously he was in the right, so he didn't care what punishments Snape tried to give him.

Towards the end of the period, the Four finished their perfectly-brewed potions. At about the same time, cauldrons blew up in the faces of a few of Harry's less trusting housemates - fortunately they had at least listened enough to be cautious, so they weren't actually hurt. Snape sneered and took House points, but otherwise the lesson ended peacefully enough.

* * *

Herbology was fascinating - Professor Sprout turned out to have a real gift for her subject matter and for conveying it to her students, and the Four were rapt. Hermione had her usual advantage from having memorised the textbook before term started, but in this class she found that Neville knew even more than she did. As the lesson progressed, it became apparent that Neville could almost rival Professor Sprout herself. The Professor noticed this, and quietly asked Neville quite a few questions once the rest of the class was busy. When Neville answered all of her questions correctly, Sprout beamed and gave Gryffindor twenty points. The Four left Herbology in an excellent mood, already considering whether to talk to Professor Sprout about faster-paced study.

On their way into the Great Hall for lunch, the Four passed quite close to Professor McGonagall. Harry caught her eye as he hurried over to her.

"Professor, can we come and talk to you after lunch? More problems with Professor Snape, I'm afraid."

McGonagall's face tightened, but she nodded.

"Follow me when I leave the Hall, Mr Potter."

At the Gryffindor table, Dean and Seamus sat down near Harry.

"Thanks," said Dean. "Er... are you actually going to do a month of detention with Snape?"

"Not a chance," said Harry. "I just talked to McGonagall - we're going to see her after lunch."

As Professor McGonagall walked towards the doors, Harry led his friends after her. A few minutes later they were once more in her office.

"Mr Potter?" said McGonagall. "What happened?"

Harry sighed. "He gave the class the wrong instructions - his instructions left out Valerian sprigs but added Erumpent horn. Ron tried to ask him about it, but just lost points."

"Wait," said Professor McGonagall. "Are you saying that you know better than your Potions master?"

Harry shook his head. "Not at all, Professor. I believe that Professor Snape knew exactly what he was doing. That particular modification doesn't just make the potion fail - it makes it explode, and that explosion can wipe memories."

"That is a very serious accusation, Mr Potter."

"I know, Professor. That's why we're here. And you haven't even heard the rest of the story yet."

Professor McGonagall gave him a curt nod, and he continued.

"When I realised what was going on, I warned the rest of the class. Professor Snape deducted a hundred House points and assigned me a month of detentions."

"Were you correct, Mr Potter?"

"Yes. We made our potions according to the book, and it worked both times. The Slytherins and a few of our friends made the potion perfectly also - I think Snape had told the Slytherins the real instructions, and my friends listened to me. Some of the other Gryffindors didn't listen, and their potions blew up."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No, Professor. They did at least listen enough to be careful."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she looked furious.

"Right. Follow me, all of you."

She strode out of her office, the Four jogging to keep up. The gargoyles outside Dumbledore's office didn't even wait for a password - they practically jumped out of the way as McGonagall approached. She walked briskly up the already-moving stairs, and burst through the ancient door unannounced. The Headmaster looked up in surprise, and visibly flinched when he saw his Deputy's temper. He waved her and the Four to seats, his face already becoming blank once more.

"Call Severus now, Albus," said McGonagall. "Interrupt his lunch if you have to, but I want him here right now."

Dumbledore looked faintly surprised, but stared thoughtfully into space for a moment and held up his right hand. A moment later he had disappeared in a flash of fire, of which the Four could make nothing. Only a few seconds after that, he appeared behind them with a bird of fire on his shoulder and Severus Snape by his side. Snape, unsurprisingly, was not in a good mood.

"Minerva? Why have you brought me here to deal with troublemakers?"

She waited until Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, then turned to face her colleague.

"Mr Potter tells me that you deliberately endangered my students, and that you punished both him and Mr Weasley for attempting to protect them."

"He's lying. An arrogant, lying toerag, just like his father. Why are you wasting my time with this?"

Harry interjected at this point.

"I'll give you a memory to prove it - just a glance at the board should be enough."

"Silence, boy!"

Snape got his silence, but only because everyone else in the room was staring at him. Finally, Minerva broke the silence. She sounded more sad than angry, but implacable either way.

"Severus, I think that proves it well enough. Would you like to gamble your job on whether Harry is lying?"

Snape glared at her, but finally found the sense to rein in his temper and his tongue. He shook his head curtly.

The Four looked at each other, and after a pause it was Neville who spoke.

"Professor Snape, why did you do that? Why were you trying to hurt us?"

Snape said nothing. After another long pause, Ron took the floor. His voice trembled, but he spoke clearly.

"I'm not going back to Snape's class, and I don't think my friends are either."

The Headmaster, aware of just how awkward the present situation was, responded genially.

"What would you do instead, Mr Weasley?"

Ron shrugged. "Study on our own like we always do. If you give us access to a Potions lab for an hour or two every week, we can manage by ourselves."

Dumbledore looked bemused, but McGonagall interceded.

"Albus, from what Filius says I suspect that these four are quite capable of doing as Mr Weasley says."

"What Filius says?" said Dumbledore. "What does Filius say?"

"He says they're the greatest Charms prodigies in centuries, and that he expects them to perform similarly in their other subjects also."

Dumbledore sat down abruptly, seeming almost to collapse into his chair. He had known Filius Flitwick for a very long time, and the Charms Master was not an easy man to impress. For first-years to impress Filius so deeply in their first week of classes was truly staggering. He nodded slowly.

"Very well. For now, you four are excused from Potions classes. We will discuss this further once I have spoken with Professor Flitwick myself. Any detentions are of course canceled, and any House points will be restored - how many were there?"

"A hundred," said Harry quietly. Dumbledore goggled slightly at that, but forbore to comment.

"A hundred points to Gryffindor, then."

Dumbledore turned to Snape, who was seething quietly.

"Severus, you may leave. I shall talk to you later."

Snape left, still clearly in a temper. Dumbledore turned back towards the remaining people in the room: Minerva McGonagall and the four remarkable first-years.

"Minerva, could you come and see me after lunch tomorrow?"

She nodded, and he turned to the students.

"You four I'd like to see back here tomorrow after dinner. Minerva, I'd like you to be here for that also. Filius will probably be here, and possibly Pomona. We shall have much to discuss, I suspect."

As Minerva McGonagall led the four first-years away from the Headmaster's office, she hesitated a moment but asked anyway.

"Strictly off the record, Mr Potter, but can you think of any reason why Professor Snape might hate you so much? I ask because I have never seen such malice in him before."

Harry shrugged. "No idea, sorry Professor. I mean I expected him to be nasty to me as a Gryffindor, everyone told me that, but I didn't expect him to have anything against me personally. I have no idea. Do you have any idea?"

Minerva sighed.

"I know of nothing beyond a schoolboy grudge against your father - if that truly is the cause, then I shall be most disappointed in Severus."

"He went to school with my dad?"

"Yes, Mr Potter. Severus and your father, and your mother for that matter, were in the same school year."

Beyond that she would say nothing, so the Four took their leave and went to their room to study Potions until it was time for Flying.

* * *

3:15 found the Four scampering down the front steps of the castle, eager for their first flying lesson. Hermione and Neville were actually a bit nervous, but neither of them would admit it, so they let themselves be swept away on Ron and Harry's enthusiasm. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they ran down the hill towards a smooth, flat lawn with broomsticks laid out across it. Once there, the Four chatted amiably as they waited for their classmates and their teacher to arrive.

Madam Hooch arrived not long after the Four, and seemed surprised to see students there already.

"Well, you lot are keen! You'll still have to wait for the proper time, though."

They nodded absently before returning to their conversation, leaving Madam Hooch rather puzzled - these kids really weren't acting like kids, and she wasn't sure what to make of them. She busied herself inspecting the twenty brooms laid out on the ground, keeping half an ear on the conversation going on behind her, noticing that it seemed awfully heavy on schoolwork. In fact, it seemed to cover a good deal more schoolwork than they could possibly have learned in less than a week - she gave a mental shrug and concentrated on the brooms, deciding that it wasn't her concern anyway.

Just before the half-hour, the other students all showed up, almost all together. As soon as they were all on the lawn, she raised her voice.

"OK, everyone stand beside a broom - you want the broom on your right-hand side."

The students scattered to obey, though the Four just stepped over to the brooms they'd been standing near to the whole time.

"OK," said Madam Hooch loudly, "stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'"

The students all did so, with somewhat mixed results. The Four, having already gained a great deal of confidence from their work together, had no trouble at all - their brooms leapt eagerly to their hands. Hermione looked a bit surprised at this, but gave a tiny shrug and held the broom steady in midair. Madam Hooch walked around helping the other students with their brooms until everyone had managed it and making sure everyone's grip was correct, and then walked back to the edge of the lawn.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. Make sure you sit far enough forward - if your weight gets too far back, your broomstick will rise out of control. And we don't want that, do we?"

Harry was the first off the ground, though the other three were only a second behind him. He touched back down almost immediately, seeming faintly reluctant as he stepped off his broom. He glanced around at his classmates, just in time to see his fellow Gryffindor Parvati Patil finally and gingerly leave the ground. Moved by an odd instinct that he didn't think to question, Harry absently swung his leg back over his broomstick. A moment later he realised that Parvati was drifting upwards without meaning to, accelerating gradually as her face turned to panic. He pushed off hard and flew over to her rapidly and surely, grabbing the front of her broomstick and pulling it downward. The two of them were suddenly dropping quite rapidly towards the ground, but Harry slowed them both to land softly. Parvati, eyes wide and breath rapid, tumbled limply off her broomstick to lie trembling on the ground. Harry saw her friend Lavender Brown walking over to her, so he kicked off again without a second thought. The incident had completely driven from his mind the fact that they were in a lesson - he wasn't even aware of his close friends standing across the other side of the lawn from him. Instead he was lost in the joy of flight, and he gave himself to it. Soaring high above his classmates, he swooped and soared effortlessly for the sheer fun of it. When he became aware that he might be testing the limits of the broomstick's performance, he considered going lower so as to have a shorter distance to fall, but after a moment's pause he decided against it - after all, from up here he could probably get it under control again before he hit the ground. Hopefully. And so he twisted and turned, exulting in the freedom and the power it gave him. By now he had completely forgotten about his friends and his other classmates below, let alone his instructor.

Nearer the ground, meanwhile, Parvati was sitting quietly with Lavender while the rest of the class flew cautiously. Madam Hooch didn't appear to have noticed either Harry's rescue of Parvati or his disappearance, and seemed unaware that she was missing a student. Hermione shot the occasional anxious glance skyward, and Ron the occasional envious one, but no one beyond them and Neville noticed anything amiss. Finally, Madam Hooch seemed satisfied with them all.  
"OK, you're all cleared to spread out and stretch your wings a little. Be careful, and stay well clear of each other, but otherwise just have fun!"

At that, Harry's friends rose high in the air in search of their errant friend. They found him a remarkably long way up, far higher than the highest turrets and towers of Hogwarts Castle. He was still ducking and weaving in the air, exulting in the sheer joy of flying. He slowed down and steadied his broom as his friends approached him, and listened as Ron spoke.

"Blimey, Harry, you're a natural! I've never seen anyone fly like that except for professional Quidditch players."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, still ill at ease with being singled out. "It just feels good. I dunno, somehow I just feel right doing this. I just know what I'm doing."

He threw himself backwards suddenly, flipping over and flying his broom directly at the ground at ridiculous speed. Ron especially was gobsmacked by this, since he knew that a rickety old Shooting Star shouldn't be able to do that. As he recovered himself and pushed his own broom into a dive, he saw Harry gracefully pull out of the insane dive, feet barely clearing the neat lawn before he began to rise again. Ron shook his head in disbelief as he descended at a much safer pace.

Madam Hooch, meanwhile, had finally noticed Harry's flying. Seated now astride her own broomstick, she flew over to where he was hovering waiting for his friends.

"Mr... Potter, isn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"Where the _hell_ did you learn to fly like that, young man?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly.

"Right here, Madam Hooch. I'd never even seen a broomstick fly before this afternoon."

She stared at him in frank disbelief, and after a moment he went on.

"It just somehow feels right, Madam Hooch - it feels like somehow I just know what to do. I did spend most of the lesson way up high testing everything, though, and I promise that I wouldn't have done a dive like that before I'd tested exactly what this broom can and can't do."

Rolanda Hooch actually laughed.

"I've taught this class for a very long time, Mr Potter, and I've taught it using these particular brooms for decades now. I've flown that exact broomstick you're sitting on right now, put it through its paces and tested exactly what it could and couldn't do, and I would have bet Galleons against knuts that it absolutely could not do what you just made it do. You have an extraordinary gift for flying - I don't know that I've ever seen anything quite like it."

She paused. "I wonder... _Accio prototype!_"

Her wand had instantly appeared in her hand, and Harry had felt the sheer power behind that spell. Hermione would have recognised it, but Harry merely looked confused.

"A Summoning Charm, Mr Potter - I have a broomstick that I'd like to see you try but I couldn't leave the class to go get it in person, so I'm Summoning it instead. It'll be here in a moment."

Harry glanced around wide-eyed, spotting the broom as it zoomed towards them. He turned back to Madam Hooch.

"Madam Hooch, what is this broom?"

"It's a prototype that was given to me for testing some months ago," she said as she caught the unlabeled but elegant broomstick. "It may yet develop a drag after a few years like its predecessors have tended to, but right now it's probably about the best broom in the world - only something like my old Silver Arrow could have beaten it, and I don't think anyone still has one of those in proper working order. Try this, Mr Potter - find out what it can do, while I stay here and watch you through these Omnioculars. Oh, and please stay well clear of your classmates."

Harry shrugged, vaulted onto this new broomstick and took off sharply. He felt the power immediately, that tight feeling of infinite potential coiled up in this oddly-shaped piece of wood. He went high, very high, rising to his former height as fast as the broom could manage. Far below, unseen, Rolanda Hooch adjusted her Omnioculars and watched intently as Harry began to put this new broom through its paces. It seemed to Harry to respond to his thought more than his touch, and it was far nimbler than the other broom. He had to work quite hard to find the limits of its manoeuvrability, but he found them. He knew its climbing already, but opened up and pushed to find how fast it could fly on the level. Having established that, he dropped abruptly into a full-power dive - he descended terrifyingly fast, shedding tremendous height in a matter of seconds, before pulling out of the dive so late that his feet actually brushed the short grass for a moment. Not for the first time, it occurred to Rolanda that the boy seemed to lack the very concept of fear. She consciously brought her breathing under control as he approached her once more.

Harry Potter was grinning like a loon, sheer transcendent joy shining through brightly.

"That was amazing! I love this broom!"

Rolanda grinned, suddenly reminded of her younger self.

"That's a prototype for the newly-released Nimbus Two Thousand, Mr Potter. As I said, I was sent it for testing. I'm a very good flier, you see, and the Nimbus Corporation sent this to me because there are very few people in the world who are better than me at broomstick test flying. As of today, young man, there's one more - I can tell you right now that this broomstick didn't perform nearly so well for me, and I'm not sure there's a single flier in the world who could stay with you when you're flying hard like just now."

Harry goggled at her, failing even to notice his three friends doing likewise from a short distance away.

"I'm really that good?" he asked disbelievingly.

"You're really that good," she said emphatically. "If you'll give me permission to show them the recording from these Omnioculars, I'm quite sure that my friends at Nimbus would love to send you all their prototypes for testing. Would you like that?"

Harry grinned and nodded vigorously, not trusting himself to speak. Behind him Ron stared slack-jawed, while Hermione and Neville merely looked surprised.

"Excellent," said Madam Hooch. "I'll contact them this evening, and hopefully you'll have a prototype of your own before next week's lesson. Meanwhile, it's getting late and we don't want to be late for dinner."

She blew her whistle loudly, and the farther-flung members of the class began to drift back in. When they were all standing on the lawn together, she smiled warmly.

"Excellent work, all of you. I'll see you all next week, though I'm happy to see any of you individually before then if you want to ask me anything. Now, off to dinner!"

The Four centred on Harry as they walked towards the castle. Ron in particular was tremendously excited.

"Bloody hell Harry, where'd you learn to fly like that? My brother Charlie can't fly like that, and he was Gryffindor's best Seeker in ages."

Harry shrugged helplessly. "It just seems obvious, I guess, how to move and all. I mean, it took me a while to get used to it the first time on the Shooting Star, but once I got the hang of it it was easy. And on that prototype, it's like the thing could read my mind - as long as I knew what I wanted to do, it just happened."

"Brilliant! Can you teach me to fly like that? And when they send you prototypes, do you think I could have a go?"

Before Harry could respond, Madam Hooch cut in - apparently she'd hurried to catch up to them.

"That's actually not a bad idea, Mr Weasley - Mr Potter here is frankly astonishing at testing the absolute limits of what a broomstick can truly do, but I suspect that the makers would quite like to see how the same prototypes handle under a more normal flier. I know your brothers, and I know there's no way that today was your first flight - you're a good flier for your age, probably a pretty good test subject for students in general, and I'm sure that would be useful. I'll need to watch Mr Potter with my Omnioculars anyway, and it's hardly any extra trouble to do that for two sets of tests every time. No promises, mind you, but I'll ask when I talk to them tonight."

Ron grinned, shouted with joy, and suddenly gave Madam Hooch a big hug. She bore it well enough, a small smile betraying her amusement.

"Careful, Mr Weasley - you might slip and find yourself hugging my friend Minerva instead - courageous lion or no, I doubt you've the stones for that."

Ron blushed, but he was still smiling.

Hermione spoke up hesitantly.

"Madam Hooch, would it be helpful to see me fly the prototypes as well? I'm not really much of a flier, but I do want to be here for Harry and Ron anyway and I feel like I might as well be some use."

"Me too," said Neville quietly.

Madam Hooch shrugged.

"I have no idea what they'll say to that, but I'll ask them. They might go for it just for the sake of getting a variety of tests with just one prototype and one set of security risks, but I really can't say for sure."

They parted ways as they entered the Great Hall, the Four sitting way down one end of the Gryffindor table away from their fellow first-years. None of them really wanted to deal with that right now. They just wanted to sit quietly and eat their dinner, so they did - for once, they didn't even talk amongst themselves.

* * *

Wednesday was their long day, with Astronomy still to come at midnight. The Four gathered at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower at quarter to, having done Astronomy study and taken a nap in preparation.

They quite liked Professor Sinistra, a serious-seeming lady who appeared to know her subject very thoroughly. By the end of the lesson, however, each of the Four was individually wondering whether they had any real use for this subject. It was slightly interesting, certainly, but they couldn't imagine any real benefit from knowing the subject matter. As they walked back to the Gryffindor tower after their lesson, Ron asked the question.

"Um... Guys, do we actually want to study Astronomy? I mean, if we're going to do our own study and all, do you think they might let us drop it? I know nothing bad happens if you don't get an OWL for Astronomy - my brother Charlie didn't, and no one cared."

"I agree," said Hermione, surprising the boys who thought they knew her. "I've memorised the textbook, remember, so I know there's nothing in there that we really need to know. Honestly, I think we probably do have better things to do with our time. Professor McGonagall will probably see it our way, too - I know Professor Flitwick will. And taking this late night out of our schedules will make a big difference - sleep is important, especially if you're trying to learn new things."

Finally able to let their minds relax and go fuzzy, the Four stumbled to bed. They were all very glad that they'd decided not to train the morning after a midnight class - they'd need the sleep.


	6. Chapter Six: First Thursday

**Chapter Six: First Thursday**

The Four dragged themselves out of bed at 7:30 the next morning, bleary-eyed and grumpy and definitely not kindly disposed towards Astronomy. As they trooped down to the Great Hall after quick showers, they agreed that they would drop the subject if they possibly could. The sight of their suffering classmates at breakfast did nothing to weaken this resolve.

They still managed to be quite early for Charms, and Professor Flitwick invited them in once more.

"Astronomy not treating you well?" he asked wryly, noting their wretched faces.

"Yeah," said Ron, "you might say that."

Flitwick grinned roguishly. "How would you like to not study Astronomy anymore?"

"We'd discussed that," said Hermione, deadpan, making Neville struggle to suppress a smile as Flitwick's gaze snapped abruptly to her face.

"You had?"

She nodded, serious now. "We had. It doesn't seem particularly useful or necessary, and it's far too disruptive."

Flitwick nodded.

"I can't promise anything, but I rather suspect that you four have had your last Astronomy class. Is there anything else you've discussed dropping?"

He swept a piercing gaze across the Four, which all of them were bright enough to notice.

Harry grinned impudently at the tiny legend in front of him.

"Well we haven't actually discussed this, but I don't think we'll be going to the Flying lessons anymore."

Flitwick's eyebrows jumped.

"Really? I'd have thought you'd all jump at the chance."

"Not quite," said Harry. "We'll definitely be flying with Madam Hooch, but it wouldn't make much sense for us to go to the regular lessons anymore. Ron's a good flier already, Hermione and Neville are OK, and apparently I'm so good that Nimbus is going to send me prototypes to test."

Flitwick staggered back a few paces and sat down heavily.

"What exactly did Rolanda say to you, Harry? She's an extraordinary flier herself, and knows everything there is to know about it."

Harry blushed.

"She said I was much better than her, for a start - she had me try out a prototype Nimbus Two Thousand, and she said she hadn't thought the broom could do what I made it do."

"Merlin." was Flitwick's only comment, and silence fell for a minute or two.

Finally Flitwick roused himself.

"I don't know why I'm so surprised - you've already shown that the usual rules don't apply to you - but I must admit that I really didn't expect you to be a flying prodigy also. For that you must be a complete natural, which is quite different from anything that makes you exceptional in my class."

Harry shrugged. "It just seemed easy."

Flitwick shook his head in disbelief, but let it pass.

"Mr Potter," he said after a moment, "shall I take from this that flying extremely well on a broomstick falls within your remit of achieving greatness?"

Harry nodded. "Of course. If I'm ridiculously good at it right from the start, and it's something that people care about, then why wouldn't I pursue it?"

"Understood, Mr Potter, understood. I merely wished to be certain."

After a moment, Hermione spoke up.

"Professor, we have some errands to run in Diagon Alley - most importantly, Ron and Neville both need wands that are actually matched to them. Is there any chance that we could impose on you for an hour or so sometime soon?"

Flitwick stared at her for a moment, then favoured Ron and Neville with a look of frank disbelief.

"Do you mean to tell me that you two were using unmatched wands in our previous lessons?"

The boys nodded awkwardly.

"Mine's my dad's," said Neville.

"I've got Charlie's old wand," said Ron.

Flitwick muttered something under his breath, anger written plainly on his face, then he raised his voice a little beyond normal speaking volume.

"That is appalling. No witch or wizard should ever be without a properly matched wand, and I am frankly horrified that your families allowed it. I would take you to Diagon Alley right this minute if we had the time to spare, but unfortunately that is not the case. I must see Albus after lunch today and we all must see him after dinner, so today is out. Straight after breakfast tomorrow, however, we shall go to Diagon Alley and rectify this absurd state of affairs. For now I ask that you assist your classmates in our lesson this morning, and I shall see you at 3:30 for your proper lesson - I doubt you'll attend terribly many more of my first-year classes, but I shall continue to make myself available to you from 3:30pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Thank you," said Neville quietly, and the other three chimed in to agree.

The other students started arriving not long after that, and the class went off without a hitch. The Four drifted around the classroom individually, helping their classmates. They were extremely effective - in most cases the problem was solved within a minute or two, and in the more difficult instances the Four would work together. When they worked together, they were almost inhumanly good at explaining things usefully - the very best teachers might be able to present a given piece of material in a number of different ways, tailored to different students and different learning styles, but very few indeed could match the combined efforts of four prodigies making use of their own varying learning styles. Flitwick, drifting around the room on much the same errand, paid some attention to how the Four worked; no matter how many decades he had spent as a teacher, he was always trying to improve.

This time Flitwick didn't keep the Four back to talk - they had talked already, they were expecting to see each other again in only a few hours, and he knew that their next class was Transfiguration with Minerva. Quite apart from Transfiguration being an important subject, even Filius Flitwick was not at all keen to incur the wrath of Minerva McGonagall.

The Four arrived in McGonagall's class only a few minutes early, and sat down quietly to wait. Once their classmates had all arrived, a cat that had been sitting on the teacher's desk suddenly leaped into the air and transformed into Professor McGonagall. The class gasped, and she certainly had their attention. After a brief pause, she began to speak.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. After some rather tedious note-taking, the students were each given a match and told to turn it into a needle.

The Four, of course, watched each other's first attempts closely. Harry accidentally set his match on fire and had to get a new one, but otherwise their progress was quick and sure. A few minutes before the end of the lesson, Hermione's match abruptly locked onto the form of a needle. The boys were so close behind her that the last of them, Ron, had a perfect needle on his desk by the time Professor McGonagall reached Hermione to congratulate her.

Minerva McGonagall, meanwhile, was utterly gobsmacked. She had heard from Albus what Filius thought of these children and their talents, but it was another matter entirely to see them perform wonders in her own subject right in front of her.

"Very well done, Miss Granger, and also Misters Potter, Longbottom and Weasley. I have never seen anyone master that charm so quickly - not James Potter, nor even myself. I cannot say for certain, but I believe that Albus Dumbledore himself did not master it so readily. Twenty points to Gryffindor - five each - for extraordinary academic achievement!"

She dismissed the class shortly thereafter, and they all trooped off to lunch. She didn't hold the Four behind to talk, choosing only to smile meaningfully at them - she knew they'd be seeing one another in the Headmaster's office after dinner in any case.

The afternoon contained nothing more eventful than Charms for the Four, first a few hours' study on their own and then an hour and a half with Professor Flitwick. As expected, they continued to make rapid progress.

After dinner, the Four gathered in front of the gargoyles protecting the staircase to the Headmaster's office. A moment later, Professors Flitwick and McGonagall arrived and let them in, and they went up the impossible moving spiral together.

Entering Dumbledore's office, they found the man sitting behind his desk and wearing a thoughtful expression. He waved them all to seats, which they took. Pomona Sprout was already sitting, looking similarly thoughtful.

"Well," said Dumbledore, "I suppose we should get started. Which of you young people is most like a leader to you all, would you say?"

The Four looked at each other in confusion, and this time it was Neville who spoke for them.

"That really depends, sir. If it's something that one of us is really good at, like me with Herbology or Hermione with pretty much everything else, then that's who'll usually take the lead. If there isn't an obvious choice like that, then we'll wait a moment and then it's pretty much random which of us actually speaks up. I don't think we have a leader overall, honestly."

Dumbledore looked surprised, but accepted Neville's answer.

"Very well," he said. "I shall speak to all of you, then, and listen to whoever happens to answer me. Strange, but such is the way of the world. Now, would you all like permission to skip any and all classes in favour of pursuing your own studies however you see fit?"

None of the Four said anything to that, but their enormous grins were answer enough. He continued.

"Now, I have spoken with Filius about this, but let's be clear. I understand that you wish to discontinue Astronomy entirely; for this you have my permission. Is there any other subject which you wish to discontinue outright, rather than merely studying on your own?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really, no. Everything else is useful, including History of Magic if we actually study it right."

This earned him a brilliant smile from Hermione.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and went on, standing up as he did so.

"Excellent, we can certainly accommodate that. Now, we have also arranged something rather more unusual."

He handed each of the Four a small stack of parchment, then rocked back on his heels and waited. After a few seconds, Hermione let out a high-pitched "Eep!" as she was the first to figure out what these parchments were.

"Wow," she breathed. "Master timetables for every subject? Including NEWTs? So we're allowed to just show up to any classes we like, whenever we like?"

Dumbledore chuckled at the sheer incredulity in her voice.

"Yes, Miss Granger. You have the run of the school, all of you, and you may attend whichever classes you wish. I ask only that you do not disrupt any classes - I'm sure you wouldn't, but I had to say it anyway."

"Of course, Headmaster."

Hermione was bouncing on the balls of her feet, practically dancing on the spot, and the boys weren't much calmer. This was beyond what they had hoped for.

After a moment's silence, Flitwick turned to Dumbledore.

"Albus, I learned today that Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom do not yet have matched wands - Mr Weasley has his brother's old wand, and Mr Longbottom his father's."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to object vehemently, but subsided as Filius held up a hand and continued talking.

"I wish to take these four to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning to buy, among other things, wands. Have you any objection?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not at all, Filius, not at all."

The ancient wizard held up a hand as Filius had a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular as his brow crinkled with thought. He stood like that for a full minute, tension clear in every line of his body as he wrestled with himself. In the end he relaxed, and even smiled.

"Filius, could I ask you to take Mr Potter to Gringotts? Upon reflection, it has become clear to me that we are best served by giving this young man full control over his affairs as soon as possible - obviously none can pace them in their learning, and I have no doubt but that the same will be true in other matters."

Flitwick looked extremely surprised - he had known Albus a very long time and this was highly unusual - but nodded vehemently. He agreed with his old friend's new position.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, had turned towards Harry.

"Harry," he said. "Harry. You are an extraordinary young man, and with your friends you will undoubtedly achieve great things. Against my usual prudence, I have decided to cede to you a great deal of power which would normally be kept in trust until you are of age. Should you abuse this power such that you yourself are seriously harmed, both I and the world will hold me largely responsible. Should you abuse this power such that others are seriously harmed, the same is true. I am trusting you a great deal here, Harry Potter - I beg of you that you treat this trust with care."

Harry bowed - somehow it seemed like the right thing to do. As he straightened again, he met the Headmaster's gaze directly and answered him no less directly.

"I understand, Headmaster, and thank you. Thank you very much for having faith in me."

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement, and the moment passed.


	7. Chapter Seven: First Friday

**Chapter Seven: First Friday**

The next morning, Friday, the Four got up and trained as usual before breakfast. After breakfast, however, they left the Great Hall with Professor Flitwick. From his office they Flooed directly to Gringotts, which surprised Neville and Ron quite a lot. In the face of their surprise, Flitwick just grinned and reminded them of his goblin heritage.

They were greeted in the foyer by Griphook, whom Harry vaguely recognised as the same goblin he'd met when he came here with Hagrid. Griphook seemed notably friendlier now that Harry was escorted by Professor Flitwick instead of Hagrid, and on impulse Harry bowed deeply to the goblin. Griphook grinned hugely and bowed in return, but didn't comment on it. Instead he got straight down to business.

"Mr Potter, you are here to take control of your family's finances. This will take several hours, I'm afraid - there is much to discuss."

Harry nodded, and Griphook continued.

"It is now at your absolute discretion to decide who does and does not have access to your financial information, Mr Potter. We can entertain your friends out here for the duration if you prefer."

Harry shook his head.

"Thank you, but no - we're a team, and we don't separate without a very good reason."

Griphook nodded and ushered them all through a door. They followed him down an assortment of corridors before he pushed open a door and entered what turned out to be his own office. He waved them to seats in front of his massive desk as he settled down behind it and thumped down a thick stack of paperwork.

"You have two vaults here at Gringotts, Mr Potter - your personal or trust vault, and your family vault. Your trust vault is what you saw last time you were here; your family vault is considerably larger. Your trust vault holds a little over 3700 Galleons, or approximately 160,000 of your British pounds. Your family vault holds a little over 7,000 Galleons, or approximately 3.6 million British pounds. Hence your total cash reserves are approximately 77,000 Galleons or 3.8 million British pounds. There is also jewellery, and a modest portfolio of real estate. I'm afraid I don't know how much that is currently worth - valuation is a time-consuming process - but I estimate it to be worth slightly more than the gold in your vaults."

Harry nodded, and then frowned.

"Do I have control over the family vault already? I thought I'd have to be older."

Griphook grinned.

"Under wizarding law, you must be 17 years of age in order to declare yourself head of your family. Under goblin law, a wizard is a full-fledged wizard from the moment he picks up his wand. The Ministry will not acknowledge you as an adult, Mr Potter, but Gringotts certainly will. You will have to sign in blood, but a simple signature on this form here will declare you the rightful owner of the Potter family name and wealth. For all magical purposes you will be the head of House Potter - your only impediment will be your lackwit Ministry, which will not recognise your position for another 6 years yet."

Harry nodded, still somewhat shocked at learning he was even richer than he had thought.

He took up the proffered quill and signed his name, wincing only slightly at the pain in the back of his hand as he wrote. That done, he was presented with the keys to his two vaults.

"You can take direct control over the real estate anytime you wish, Mr Potter, but until then we'll continue to manage it for you - that's generating quite a nice income, actually, and is responsible for a significant portion of the money in your family vault."

Harry nodded, and they all traveled to his trust vault - there was no need to touch the family vault as yet, since the trust vault held more than enough for Harry's needs. As they stood outside the opening door, Harry glanced at Professor Flitwick.

"Professor," he said quietly, "can you think of any reason why I shouldn't keep a reserve of a few hundred Galleons hidden in my trunk at Hogwarts for emergencies?"

Flitwick paused for some time, then shook his head.

"Go ahead then, Mr Potter."

Griphook, who hadn't missed a word of this exchange, wordlessly handed over a large hessian sack. Harry took it and rapidly tossed what he guessed to be a few hundred golden Galleons into the sack, only to be embarrassed when he found he couldn't even pick the sack up off the floor. Professor Flitwick waved his wand and the weight suddenly diminished sharply, and Harry did an odd little dance to avoid falling over after his balance was so abruptly shifted. He succeeded, and could now carry the sack comfortably - the only problem was that it was extremely conspicuous. Flitwick waved his wand again, and the bag shrank so much that Harry could comfortably put it in his pocket. He did so.

"We'll get you a new trunk," said Professor Flitwick, "one with multiple interior spaces. One of them can be full of gold."

Harry nodded, and they left Gringotts. Harry, backing a hunch because he had no reason not to, was careful to bow courteously to Griphook as they took their leave. Griphook returned the gesture, and seemed pleased.

As the five of them walked along Diagon Alley, Professor Flitwick turned to Harry.

"Who taught you how to behave around goblins, Mr Potter?"

Harry shrugged, confused and faintly apprehensive.

"No one. I'm just being polite, and trying not to waste their time any more than I have to. How did I go?"

"Exceptionally well. Very few wizards treat goblins with respect, I'm afraid. The respect you displayed this morning, even more than the wealth you command, has earned you the respect of Gringotts."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but smiled vaguely.

As Harry entered the dim and dusty wand shop, Ollivander looked up in surprise.

"Mr Potter, I wasn't expecting you back so soon! Nor you, Miss Granger. What can I... ah, I see."

He waited until the five of them were all inside and the door was shut, and then went on.

"Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom. I had expected to see you both before now, but the wands are nothing if not patient. Might I enquire as to the reason for this delay, though?"

Neville and Ron seemed too embarrassed to speak for themselves, so Flitwick spoke instead.

"They hold unmatched wands, I'm afraid - Mr Weasley has the former wand of his brother Charlie, and Mr Longbottom that of his father Frank."

Ollivander looked scandalised.

"Well, that certainly won't do! Molly and Arthur Weasley should know better than that, and Augusta Longbottom certainly should!"

He turned once more to the students.

"Mr Longbottom, if you would?"

Neville stepped forward, looking more uncomfortable than actually nervous.

"Would you mind casting a spell for me with your current wand? Any spell, as long as it won't damage the shop too badly."

Neville shrugged and levitated a box that was sitting on the shop counter, as Ollivander muttered under his breath. After a moment, the old wandmaker nodded.

"That's an unusually good match, for a wand which never chose you - I suggest that you carry it as a spare. Considering the future that lies in front of you, young man, a spare wand is definitely a good idea."

Neville shrank back a little, then straightened up and asked,

"What do you know about my future?"

Ollivander sighed.

"I know little of your future in particular, Mr Longbottom, but it hardly takes a seer to see the coming war or that you will fight in the heart of it. The war is obvious - it never truly ended - but let me explain what I see of your part in it. Your family was attacked shortly after the Potters, another Auror couple with a baby almost exactly your age, and of course the whole world knows what happened at the Potters'. I'm not sure why Voldemort so desperately wanted to kill the infant Harry Potter, although their holding of brother wands now is suggestive, but it's hardly a stretch to see some connection between the attack on the Potters and the attack on your own family. Beyond that, you're the son of two Aurors, effectively orphaned by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Of course you will fight when the war rages once more, Mr Longbottom, of course you will fight. You stand here with Harry Potter and two other students, and the four of you are clearly brothers in arms already, never mind that your first school year has scarcely begun. You and Mr Weasley are both here against the wishes of your families, be it at Mr Potter's behest or otherwise. You stand here on a school morning, escorted by Filius Flitwick - a wise choice of ally, to be sure, but it tells me also that you and your comrades have bent Hogwarts around yourselves in a matter of days. Thus I am confident, Mr Longbottom, that you will fight at the heart of the war. You will go to it, and it will come to you."

Neville stared at Ollivander, wild-eyed and slack-jawed. He jumped at the sound of a voice from behind him.

"Garrick, my old friend," said Professor Flitwick, "it's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Filius, likewise. Drop by some evening and I'll crack a bottle or two of a truly superb mulled mead that an old client gave me not long ago."

Flitwick nodded, and Ollivander turned his attention back to Neville.

Muttering and waving his wand, he cast a series of diagnostic charms on the boy. He made an intrigued noise, cast a few more charms, and then scurried off among his shelves. A minute later he returned, carrying only a handful of boxes. These he set gently on the counter, before handing the first wand to Neville. Neville swished it through the air, but nothing happened.

"I wouldn't rely on that now that you're learning magic, lad - cast a spell with it, preferably whatever you're most familiar with. You'll know."

Neville shrugged.

_"Lumos!"_

The wand's tip lit up a pinkish white, searingly bright in the dim shop. Ollivander actually laughed.

"Try it with your old wand, boy, exactly the same!"

Neville did so, and the light was still quite bright but no longer dazzling. The pink tinge was slightly stronger than before.

"Excellent, excellent!" said Ollivander. "This new wand is much better for you than your father's, although that will still work in an emergency. Would you like to try again?"

Neville stared at the old man again, utterly dumbfounded.

"I can get more than one? I'll already have two, and I didn't even think that was allowed!"

Ollivander smiled.

"It is unusual, certainly - normally a wizard has only one wand at a time. It is possible, however, and even entirely legal, to possess any number of wands simultaneously. And as I remarked earlier, I believe it prudent that the scion of Longbottom never be caught without a wand."

Neville nodded slowly, and Ollivander went on.

"So, excellent results with this wand. 13 inches, somewhat unyielding, cherry and unicorn hair. Onward!"

Several minutes later, Neville stepped back with three wands and two dueling holsters. His eyes were still somewhat wild, but otherwise he seemed composed. Ron stepped forward.

Ah, Mr Weasley! Hmm..."

As Ollivander started casting diagnostic charms, Ron looked puzzled.

"Mr Ollivander, how could you be sure that Neville was willing to buy two wands? I mean, wands are very expensive."

Ollivander smiled, then called over his shoulder as he strode purposefully into his shelves.

"Like yourself, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom is a comrade in arms to Harry Potter. Not that the Longbottoms themselves could not easily afford a dozen wands for Neville if they so chose, mind you, but I assume with some confidence that Mr Potter will be paying for everything today. The Potter fortune could quite comfortably pay for my entire stock; Mr Potter no doubt wants you all fully equipped and is willing to pay for it, and your presence here on a school morning in the company of Filius Flitwick makes me quite confident that Mr Potter has at least some control over his finances already."

Ron nodded as Ollivander returned with a small stack of boxes.

"Please cast "Lumos" with your current wand, Mr Weasley. Ash and unicorn, I believe, and 12 inches?"

Ron nodded.

_"Lumos!"_

The wand's tip glowed steadily, but not as brightly even as Neville with his father's wand. Ron looked embarrassed but said nothing. Ollivander frowned slightly, but said nothing as he handed Ron the first wand.

_"Lumos!"_

The light was nearly as bright as Neville with the better of his two new wands, but it had a distinctly reddish tinge. Ollivander nodded.

"Mr Weasley," he said, "listen to me. First, excellent, that wand is a good match for you. Second, and more important, you should not be angry with yourself for wielding less magical power than do your friends. With this new wand, you are far more powerful than a normal child of your age - your friends are extraordinary, even more so than yourself, and you should never feel bad about that."

Ron stared at the old man once more.

"How did you know that? Any of it?"

Ollivander smiled.

"You cast the spell correctly with your old wand, Mr Weasley, but you were embarrassed by its lack of power. With the new wand you overpowered the spell, seeking no doubt to compensate - that's why the light was somewhat reddish, you know. I know from direct comparison that Mr Longbottom's magic is more powerful than yours, albeit not by a very great margin, and I would be surprised if either of you could match Mr Potter for raw magical power. I know little about Miss Granger's magic per se, but her very inclusion in your fellowship speaks highly of her."

Ron nodded uncertainly, while behind him Hermione blushed.

In the end they all left with new wands; each had two wands properly matched, and Ron and Neville had their mismatched wands besides. Each of the Four had the properly-matched wands ready to hand in dueling holsters on their forearms, charmed invisible to all but the wearer. Harry did indeed pay for everything before they left, barely even noticing the amount of gold he was handing over.

As they approached the public fireplaces to Floo back to Hogwarts, Harry turned to Flitwick.

"Professor, how do you come out of a fireplace not even looking like you're about to fall over? Can I do that?"

Flitwick laughed.

"It's partly practice, but I suppose there is a trick to it also. I think where most people go wrong is that they don't actively step out of the fireplace, so instead the fireplace throws them out. The other thing is that you will always be spinning when you arrive - move with that, and don't try to fight it or ignore it."

"Thank you."

Harry tried that when he arrived at Hogwarts, Flitwick noted - he wasn't yet as graceful as Filius himself, but the young man did step out of the fireplace and he did manage not to fall over as he danced around to arrest his rotation. Somewhat surprisingly, the other three did precisely the same thing - clearly they had all been paying attention, and it paid off in that none of them fell over. Filius nodded approvingly, but forbore to comment.

He looked at the Four.

"Garrick Ollivander may not have special access to private information as such, but he is extremely knowledgeable and intelligent, and his inferences are usually correct. He has done you all a great service today by sharing his thoughts with you - I strongly suggest that you pay close attention to everything that he told you. Miss Granger will no doubt be able to remind you of the precise wording."

The Four nodded, and soon afterwards they all went to lunch.

At lunch, Dean and Seamus ran up to the Four where they were sitting.

"You guys are nuts!" said Seamus. "Sure, maybe you can get away with skivin' off History of Magic, but you didn't show up to freakin' Potions! What are you playing at?"

Neville grinned. "Actually, we don't have to show up to any classes we don't want to anymore."

"WHAT?"

Harry chimed in. "Yeah, Dumbledore said. McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout were all there, too."

Seamus and Dean frankly goggled at them. There was a long pause before Dean found his voice.

"So what are you going to do instead? Seriously, why are they letting you cut classes?"

"We're studying," said Hermione. "on our own. Since we're studying together and working so hard, we're learning faster than a normal class. So instead we're going to study on our own most of the time, though we do have master timetables and permission to attend any class we want to."

"Er... Like, you could go to a Potions class with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff?"

"Well yes, but also we can go to a second- or third-year class if we like. We can even go to any seventh-year class, though that would be a bit pointless at this stage."

"Does that mean you don't have to do homework anymore?"

Hermione laughed.

"Well, sort of. I don't think we'll have to write 12 inches on Urg the Unclean for Professor Binns, but we will be spending much more time studying than anyone else does."

"Is that what you were doing this morning?"

"No," she said, "this morning Professor Flitwick took us to Diagon Alley so that Ron and Neville could get new wands."

Dean seemed satisfied with that, and conversation lapsed as they all devoted themselves to eating.


	8. Chapter Eight: Routine

**A/N:** All four of them, for their various reasons, were substantially broken individuals when they boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. As to why we see practically no after-effects from that, the short answer is that all four of them seize on their fellowship as a new "normal" and pretty much ignore the old "normal". I did something similar myself when I was a few years older than this, transforming quite abruptly in response to a sudden radical improvement in my social context.

**08 Routine:**

Now that they essentially had complete freedom in their studies, the Four quickly settled into a routine that suited them. They continued their exercise sessions in the mornings, and without Astronomy to stay up for on Wednesday nights they could run before breakfast every morning. After breakfast they normally split up, each of them going to a different class - to begin with these were mostly second-year classes, since they were already ahead of the first-year curriculum. After lunch they holed up in their private classroom (they'd asked Flitwick now and he'd given them permission), and each of them in turn taught the others what they had learned in the classes they'd attended that morning. Even Hermione's extraordinary organisational skills were being challenged, as she kept track of everything they were learning - she reacted mock-violently whenever anyone suggested that she shouldn't have to do all that by herself, so they left it in her hands. She also mostly decided what classes they would go to and what they would study in their own sessions, although she was always willing to change things if someone objected.

In the evenings they generally practised dueling, and they became adept at tiring themselves out as much as possible while making sure they could always recover by the next morning. They found that their magic grew stronger a lot more rapidly than anyone had expected, and continued to push as fast as they could.

They no longer had scheduled private lessons with Professor Flitwick, but he and most of the other teachers gave the Four a standing invitation to visit and ask questions anytime they were free. For Potions they attended no classes and had no teacher as such, given their relationship with Snape, but Professor Sprout supervised their use of the Potions classroom a few times each week. At first they brewed two different potions at once between the four of them, but they quickly increased this to four and beyond as they became more confident. In brewing potions the Four were essentially just testing what they already knew thoroughly, so they found they could make good use of having an entire classroom to themselves. They also became very popular with Madam Pomfrey, since most of the potions that they brewed went straight into her stores.

For Defence Against the Dark Arts they didn't bother attending scheduled classes, but Professor Flitwick did arrange for them to practise dueling against some older students. The Four quickly learned to work effectively as a team, gambling that in any real fight they would probably be together.

Although the Four didn't attend regular Flying lessons on Wednesday afternoons, they did meet up with Madam Hooch every week or so to test-fly prototypes. Harry honed his already-excellent flying skills, while his friends became quite good fliers themselves - even Hermione became entirely comfortable in the air, and Ron might have been good enough to play on the House Quidditch team if he'd had the time - as it was, Harry had quietly but firmly refused to play Quidditch in his first year. He did leave open the possibility of joining the team later, but right now he was too busy with study.

Hermione was happier than she had ever been before. She had three very close friends who obviously valued her highly, and they valued her for what that she cared about most: learning. She finally had people who appreciated her obsessive planning, and for the first time in her life she was in a situation where she really needed it. Her exceptional memory was also getting full use - she was the Four's expert memory for all the details in every subject, especially History of Magic. There was the faint shadow of awareness that war was coming, but she knew that they were already doing everything they could to prepare for that. She wan't even particularly bothered by the coldness that her dorm-mates often showed towards her - they never actually did or said anything nasty to her, being well aware that even on her own she was already more than a match for all four of them, and she just couldn't make herself care all that much that they didn't like her.

Neville also was happier than he had ever been before. Raised to believe that he was worthless, he had abruptly found himself in a situation where that clearly wasn't true. He had friends who cared about him and thought he was important, and with their help he was excelling in ways that even his inner voice of doubt couldn't deny. He had thrown himself whole-heartedly into this new life, letting his new happiness blur the painful memories of the past. Among the Four he was the recognised expert in Herbology and Potions, seeing the connections between the two subjects and developing a deep understanding of what made potions work. He even began to modify some potions recipes, although he always asked Professor Sprout and took extreme safety precautions - he hadn't forgotten the exploding cauldrons in their second and final lesson with Snape.

Ron was, in a word, fulfilled. All his life he had been overshadowed in every way by his older brothers, and even occasionally by his younger sister. Now, finally, he was standing tall in his own right. He didn't care at all that Harry was more famous - Ron was now at least slightly famous for his own work alongside Harry, rather than just for being Harry's friend, and so he was happy. Besides, his social world was largely wrapped up in the Four - in their company he was an equal, and he found he didn't really know or care what anyone else thought of him. Much to his own surprise, he had quickly become the Four's expert on aspects of History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had always excelled at chess, and now he used that strategic thinking to analyse historical events and trends and to devise battle strategies. He had also discovered quite a few ways in which the accepted histories of the wizarding world didn't make sense, and the Four had begun to piece together an alternate history which painted their government in a far less favourable light. So far they had chosen not to tell anyone about this, though Ron and Hermione between them were keeping meticulous notes on everything they learned and realised.

Harry had found peace in work, more or less. He knew that war was coming, but like Hermione he was reassured that he was already doing everything he could to prepare for it. He had been badly hurt by his relatives, and that damage might never fully heal, but now it felt like it belonged to a different life. It could no longer touch him. Besides flying, Harry became the Four's expert in spellcasting itself - he did have more magical power than the other three, although by now they were all well beyond any of their former classmates in that regard. In his friends he found the emotional security that he had always lacked; their shared task both insulated them from the rest of the world and bound the four of them together, and they had rapidly become extremely close.

This peace endured until Halloween.


	9. Chapter Nine: Disrupted

**Chapter Nine: Disrupted**

The traditional Halloween feast was well underway, the Great Hall full of students enjoying the spread. As usual, the Four were sitting together at the Gryffindor table. By now their housemates mostly ignored them - the Four were simply an exception to established categories, and were generally left to their own devices. This suited them perfectly, of course.

Suddenly the giant double-doors crashed open, and a very disheveled-looking Professor Quirrell staggered in. He ran clumsily to the Head table, then slumped against it in front of Dumbledore.

"Troll!" he said, voice high-pitched and unsteady. "In the dungeons. Thought you ought to know."

With that, he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was instant pandemonium, silenced after a few seconds by a shockingly loud firecracker sound from Dumbledore's wand. The students stared at the Headmaster.

"Prefects," he bellowed, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

As the Hall descended into a more purposeful sort of chaos, Ron turned to Hermione.

"Aren't trolls really dangerous? Like, way too dangerous for a couple of prefects to handle?"

She nodded grimly, looking unhappy, then hastily pointed her wand at Ron's throat as she saw him standing up.

_"Sonorus!"_ she muttered.

"**WAIT!**" yelled Ron. He had raised his voice to carry to the entire Hall unaided, and Hermione's charm made it deafening. The entire Hall fell silent, as teachers and students alike turned to stare at the source of this extremely loud command. Ron swallowed nervously, but stood his ground and addressed the Hall at a more reasonable volume.

"I'm sorry Headmaster, but you're going to get students killed if you do that. There's no way that a couple of prefects can handle a troll, let alone protect a large number of helpless children from a troll. Plus the Slytherin dormitories are in the dungeons where the troll is, so you're sending a quarter of your students straight into the worst danger. And aren't the Hufflepuff dorms somewhere down there as well?"

He paused a moment to catch his breath, and the Hall remained silent. His fellow students were gobsmacked, and even Dumbledore was sufficiently surprised to hear the boy out. Somewhat more calmly, Ron continued.

"Look, why don't we all stay right here in the Great Hall? Well, the students anyway. There's only a few ways in, and the doors are all strong - we should be able to defend the Hall if we have to, and if we're all in here together then the older students can actually keep us safe. Then you can take the teachers out and deal with the troll, and no one has to be in danger. Just leave us some safe way to talk to you."

After a quick muttered _"Sonorus!"_, Hermione added her voice.

"Before anyone goes anywhere, though, we should do a complete headcount and make sure everyone's here - students and staff."

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, fabled discoverer of the Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood, glared down at the four tiny first-years who were directly and very publicly challenging his authority during an emergency. Deliberately reining in his anger, he forced himself to consider young Weasley's words - no one seemed to be in immediate danger, after all, and a mistake now could leave children dead and their blood on his hands. Dumbledore had borne a great deal of responsibility in his life, and had made his share of costly mistakes. This was not the time, he realised, to be concerned about proper respect for his authority. And so he paused - he asked Minerva McGonagall to take a headcount of everyone in the Hall, and while she went about that he stood in silence for nearly a full minute as he thought about what he should do. Finally he spoke, voice steady and powerful.

"Thank you, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger. Fifty points to Gryffindor for courage, and fifty points for an excellent and timely assessment of the situation. Professor McGonagall is currently conducting a headcount; as soon as we are sure that no one is in immediate danger, we can proceed. Students will remain here in the Great Hall with the doors barricaded, and professors will come with me to deal with the troll."

Dumbledore paused, and gave a crooked smile.

"While myself and the other professors are absent, these four students are in charge here: Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom. Anyone disobeying them will answer to me. Argus, Rubeus - that includes you, I'm afraid. Poppy, please come with me - we may need your skills."

A shocked silence had fallen on the Hall as Dumbledore spoke. Leaving first-years in charge? Maybe the old man really was as crazy as he sometimes seemed. No one was willing to argue with him under the circumstances, though. It would normally be Minerva who would talk him out of a mad idea like this one, but she knew the Four personally and trusted them - she wouldn't argue with Albus this time. Instead she concentrated on the parchment in front of her, tallying students and staff as prefects reported back to her. She scribbled for a few moments more, then turned to Albus.

"Students and staff are all here, Albus - not one missing."

He nodded, then stood up and walked towards the massive double doors, rousing Quirrell with an absent wave of his wand as he walked past him. Voice still amplified, the ancient wizard addressed the Hall one last time.

"I shall place certain protections on these doors once they are closed - further protections I leave to Mr Weasley and his friends."

He handed a small mirror to Ron in passing, canceling the charm on his voice and addressing the boy quietly. "I have its partner - say my name, and a connection will open."

Ron nodded, and the Headmaster strode out of the door at the head of his teaching staff.

* * *

The Four headed to the nearly-empty Head Table. Voice still amplified, Ron stood in front of Dumbledore's place and addressed the students.

"First, no one goes near any of the doors without our permission. We're in charge here, which means we're responsible for your safety. If that means having you Stunned to stop you from getting yourself killed, then I'll do it.

"Second, who knows good spells to reinforce the doors? As long as it doesn't somehow hurt us, right now there's no such thing as too much protection."

"Weren't you supposed to do that yourself, Weasley?" yelled an older Slytherin that Ron didn't recognise. Ron shrugged and opened his mouth to answer, and Hermione opened hers to make what would very likely be an angry retort, but Neville stopped each of them with a quiet hand on their shoulders. After a moment, Harry took the lead. A quick glance at Hermione, and his voice was amplified as he turned back to the heckler.

"Look, we've been left in charge. That means the Headmaster trusts our judgement. Obviously we're not the most magically powerful people in the room, let alone more powerful than everyone else here put together. It'd be completely stupid to rely only on our own personal magical strength to defend everyone here. Since we're not completely stupid, we're using the resources we have. If you don't want to help, that's fine - just don't interfere with the people who actually are doing something to help. Alright?"

The older Slytherin looked away and didn't say anything more.

Ron grinned.

"Questions, anyone?"

A number of older students, fairly evenly spread across the non-Slytherin Houses, offered their help. The Four accepted help from most of them, and before long all of the doors were shimmering with power. All doors also had proximity alarms, so there'd be at least some advance warning of any attack. No one needed to be told not to touch the doors now. Now that the immediate pressure was gone, however, the question of authority raised its head in earnest. Until this evening, the Four had been vaguely hoping to avoid serious scrutiny from the student body as a whole. Now they realised that, ready or not, this was their moment to make an impression.

Draco Malfoy was bright enough to keep his mouth shut - he had enough experience of the Four to realise that a confrontation would likely just make him look bad. Octavius Snow, on the other hand, had no such reason for caution. As the pre-eminent figure in 7th-year Slytherin, and a Prefect at that, he was not inclined to respect the authority of a bunch of Gryffindor firsties. He also wasn't one to learn humility from a single embarrassment like the one a few minutes earlier. He stood up and spoke once more, this time addressing the students in general.

"So someone tell me, why exactly are we all in thrall to a handful of firsties?"

The Four exchanged glances, and then Neville cast a quick Sonorus on himself.

"What's your name?"

"Octavius Snow."

Neville moved as if to walk over to the Slytherin table, but Ron held him back gently. After a moment, Neville nodded faintly and then jumped up onto the Head Table. From his new vantage point he had a clear view of Snow, and also of the rest of the Slytherins.

"The first reason, Snow, is that the Headmaster left us in charge. Given the circumstances, I suspect he would take a very dim view of any major disrespect. The second reason is that we are the people who are keeping you from getting killed."

The rest of the Four, meanwhile, jumped up on the Head Table and spread out along its length. Each of them had a wand in each hand - one visible, and one hidden. They had been practising double-casting for weeks now, and they were all expecting spells to start flying any moment. Snow, not realising any of this, sneered at Neville.

"So tell me, boy, what exactly would you do if I were to defy you? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

Neville shrugged expressively, his right-hand wand happening to be conspicuous as he did so.

"Hypothetically speaking, I'd call you a security risk and neutralise you by whatever means necessary. Also, right now I'd like you to put your wand down on the table in front of you."

Snow glared at him. "Kid, you can't make me do that - I'm a prefect."

Neville shifted his stance slightly. Snow was actually sitting quite close, close enough that Neville was confident of hitting him even when firing left-handed from the hip. "Last chance, Snow. Wand on the table, now."

Snow grinned. "Make me."

He knew of the Four as a bunch of firstie swots, beavering away to ultimately earn their OWLs a little sooner. He had no idea of their actual skills, which is why he didn't bother to raise a shield - he was confident he could simply counter any spell directly, and knew that that would make him look much more powerful and dominant than if he simply raised a shield.

Neville twitched his right-hand wand downward slightly.

_"Stupefy!"_

A jet of red light leapt from his wand - rather weak by the standards of older students, but still impressive coming from a first-year. Snow lazily countered it, then abruptly collapsed unconscious on the table in front of him. Suddenly the Hall was so quiet that Harry's murmured _"Accio wand"_ was clearly audible.

Standing in the middle of the Head Table, voice perfectly steady, Neville addressed the Hall as Harry effortlessly caught Snow's wand and shoved it in a pocket.

"Listen," said Neville, "this isn't a joke. Better understand that right now. The Headmaster gave us a job to do, and we're doing it. If you interfere with that, if you try to mess us up like Snow just did, we will take you down. We won't hurt you if we can help it, and we're not here to punish anyone, but we're not going to let anyone put us all in any more danger than we're already in. And no, I won't tell you which of us took Snow down or how."

He looked towards the Slytherin table, where a few older students were clearly trying to decide whether to revive Snow, and shook his head slightly. "Let him sleep - if we have to take him down when he's actually got proper defences up, he's going to get hurt."

The Slytherins searched Neville's face for any signs of weakness or bluffing, but found none. They backed down. Neville turned back to the Hall at large and went on.

"OK, let's be clear here. We are under attack. All of us. Now is not the time to show everyone how tough you are, unless of course the troll actually gets in here. Mr Snow will be taking a nap until the teachers get back, and will then be explaining himself to the Headmaster. Anyone who tries a similar stunt will join him. Ron, any word from the Headmaster?"

Ron, standing further along the table and holding their communication mirror, nodded.

"Spoke to him a moment ago - they've found the troll and are about to take it down."

Neville nodded, and turned his attention back to the Hall at large.

"OK, so we shouldn't be here too much longer. Just stay in your seats, all of you, and talk amongst yourselves."

He and Harry levitated Snow's unconscious body onto the Head Table, and then stood at either end of the table and watched over the Hall. Hermione kept an eye on the doors and Ron watched Snow, until the teachers returned a few minutes later. The Headmaster and Professor Flitwick between them took down the protections on the main doors, though it did take them nearly a full minute to do so.

The Headmaster praised the Four warmly, but broke off abruptly when he noticed Snow's inert form on the table.

"Mr Weasley, why exactly is one of my prefects lying unconscious on the table?"

Ron gestured towards Neville, who calmly answered.

"He challenged us, sir. Asked what we'd do if he defied us, called me 'boy' and 'kid', and refused to lay down his wand when I told him to. When he still refused the second time I asked, we took him down and confiscated his wand - Harry has it now."

Dumbledore looked intrigued. "Ah, delightfully unexpected. Well done then, all of you."

The Headmaster raised his voice to address the Hall at large.

"The danger has passed. Please continue with the feast. Weasley, Longbottom, Potter, Granger, please come with me."

The unconscious Slytherin floated along behind Dumbledore as he strode out of the Hall, with the Four scurrying to catch up. Shortly they found themselves in his office, where the ancient wizard woke Snow with a negligent wave of his wand.


	10. Chapter 10: Replan

**Author's Note: **Here's the chapter as promised, but after this it'll be monthly updates. I've discovered that I can't maintain the fortnightly schedule for three stories while working full-time - I think it's affecting the quality of the stories (not to mention the quality of my life), and I'm not willing to do that. Monthly should mean I can write longer and better-polished chapters. Anyway, next chapter after this will be up on July 1.

**A/N Fri 13/6:** Edited to fix a continuity error - thanks to my new beta AnimeKitty47 for spotting that. :-)

**Chapter Ten: Replan**

"Mr Snow," said Dumbledore gravely, "what happened in the Great Hall while I was absent?"

Octavius Snow paused for a moment, then adopted a serious expression as he answered.

"These first-years abused the authority you gave them, Headmaster. They attacked me just for asking a question."

Dumbledore glanced enquiringly towards the Four, and Hermione answered him with a surprisingly recognisable imitation of Snow's voice.

"'So someone tell me, why exactly are we in thrall to a handful of firsties?'"

Dumbledore turned back towards Snow and raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to ask the question out loud.

On a whim, Neville answered her: "What's your name?"

Hermione replied in Snow's voice, and the two of them played out the rest of the exchange between Neville and Snow in the Great Hall earlier. By the end, Snow himself looked distinctly nervous. Dumbledore just looked disappointed. When he finally spoke, his voice was was sorrowful.

"Octavius Snow, you are relieved of your responsibilities as prefect. Your badge, if you please."

Snow paused for only a moment before meekly handing over his badge, apologising as he did so. He was a Slytherin, after all, and a tantrum here would be counterproductive. These upstarts would suffer for humiliating him, but he would have to be careful in how and when he arranged that. He left the Headmaster's office quietly.

* * *

After Snow had left, Dumbledore turned to the Four with a smile.

"So, which of you can tell me why I left you in charge?"

Ron and Neville exchanged a glance, and decided that Neville should take this one. He paused to collect his thoughts, then answered clearly and confidently.

"Well, for a start we should acknowledge the reason that has nothing to do with us - you have a reputation to maintain, Headmaster, and this is a perfect example of how you do that. Same with your welcoming speech and your general announcements at the Welcoming Feast."

Dumbledore nodded, looking both impressed and intrigued, and Neville went on.

"As for us specifically, you were testing us, challenging us. You wanted to see what we could do, and you wanted to push us beyond what we're comfortable with. You knew that you and the other professors wouldn't be gone for very long, and that Hagrid could deal with any serious trouble that might have happened. Actually you didn't even have to take all the professors with you - you could have left one or two of them to watch over the students, but instead you took the chance to test us. Oh, and you probably wanted to expose us to the rest of the students - we've been keeping to ourselves so practically no one knows much about us, and now we're probably going to get some very useful offers of help.

"Does that about cover it, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled broadly, eyes twinkling.

"Correct on all points, Mr Longbottom - very well done!

"Now, I rather suspect that your lives will indeed change as a result of this. Can I help you with anything?"

Ron smiled.

"Thank you, Headmaster - we'll remember your offer, but right now we can't predict what we're going to need. I'll come to you if there is anything."

Dumbledore nodded, and after some pleasantries the Four left his office.

* * *

From the Headmaster's office, the Four went straight to their private classroom. Once they were inside, Ron cast _Colloportus_ on the door. As the other three looked at him in surprise, he cast a lengthy series of privacy charms. When he was satisfied, he turned to face his friends.

"Guys, the situation has changed. We have actual enemies now - Snow won't forget this, and he must have powerful allies. Starting right now, we have to assume we could be in danger pretty much any time we're not around teachers that we trust. This is why I said we should learn to fight, and I'm glad we did. Well, one reason anyway - obviously we'll need to take down Voldemort eventually, and for that we also need to know how to fight. Anyway, we need to replan."

"Um," said Hermione, "when we do fight Voldemort, is there any reason why we shouldn't use Muggle weapons to even things up? I'd need to test it, but I'm pretty sure a _Protego_ wouldn't stand up to more than one or two bullets."

The three boys stared at her - Ron and Neville were Purebloods and had no idea at all about guns, and even Harry had never seen one in person except for the one that Uncle Vernon bought when they were running away from Harry's Hogwarts letters. Hermione shrugged, looking embarrassed.

"Dad has a gun, and he's taught me about them. I was curious, so he even taught me to shoot."

Ron held up a hand.

"That's probably a good idea, and it's definitely not something I would have thought of, but it's not what we need to talk about right now. Remind me another time, and we'll talk about guns and maybe get some. For now, we need to make plans."

Hermione nodded, and Ron continued.

"We've all been doing everything, more or less, and that's good to a point. I think we're almost at that point now. We're close to the end of second-year work in pretty much everything now, and beyond that I think we should specialise - it'll save us a lot of time. So Neville is our Herbology and Potions expert - Neville, I definitely think you should go through to OWLs and NEWTs and maybe even Mastery in those. Harry, your spellcasting is brilliant - I think you should go through with Charms and Transfiguration. Hermione, if you don't mind I think we should work together. History of Magic is important - we need to figure out a solid and well-supported alternative to the garbage that Binns is teaching - and I think we're also the best people to go on with Runes and Arithmancy and do serious magical research. Um... What other subjects? Astronomy, waste of time. Divination, forget it. Muggle Studies, complete joke. Care of Magical Creatures isn't a complete joke, but I don't think it's really important enough for us to bother with. Oh, and we'll consider any special projects that any of us wants to try."

"I want to design a broomstick!" said Harry cheerfully, but even this barely rated a glance from the others before they all turned back to Ron.

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Neville were staring at Ron, who looked slightly embarrassed.

"Come on," he said, "I am supposed to be the strategic thinker here, you know! I've been thinking about this stuff for a while, and now suddenly it's a lot more urgent than it was. Anyway, what do you think?"

They all agreed that his plans made sense, but Hermione went further.

"It's fine for you guys sharing a dorm with the three of you and just Dean and Seamus, but I'm on my own with four girls who really don't like me. Not that they're actually mean to me, mind you, but it's like they don't even see me as human. It's not nice. Do you think we'd be allowed to move into a dorm on our own, the four of us? I mean, we're nearly two years ahead - we're not just bright first-years anymore."

"Let's talk to Flitwick," said Harry. "I mean, we'll need a professor arguing for us - it's not like Dumbledore's just going to let us have this much freedom."

"He did offer," said Neville. "We should talk to Flitwick, for sure, but don't count Dumbledore out - he knows what's going on with us, and he just offered to help us. The only thing is, we should work out what we want before we go and ask him for it - we'll need to be really clear."

They all agreed on that, so Ron took down his security on the door and they all headed to Flitwick's office.

* * *

Filius Flitwick was a highly intelligent individual, and he generally paid close attention to the world around him. The Four found him sitting in his office, thinking about their situation and waiting for them to arrive - he greeted them warmly when they did arrive, and waved them to the comfortable chairs he had conjured in advance for them.

"Mr Weasley," he said solemnly, "what do you four intend to do now?"

Ron grinned, no longer even slightly nervous about being singled out.

"Two main things, sir. The first is that we're planning to specialise once we finish with second-year material - we all want to know that stuff for all the subjects we care about, but past that it doesn't make sense for everyone to do everything. Neville's Herbology and Potions, Harry's Charms and Transfiguration, and Hermione and will be working together on history and research."

"Research?" said Flitwick.

"Basically Runes and Arithmancy, and using them to discover and create new stuff."

Flitwick nodded, and Ron went on.

"The second thing is, we want a dorm of our own - living with the Gryffindor first-years isn't really working for us, especially Hermione. Is that a possibility?"

Flitwick leaned back in his chair, his face showing the sheer shock of it. He had expected something like their plans for specialisation, but this was a different matter entirely.

"I think I understand your reasoning," he said cautiously. "You want that extra level of focus and camaraderie, and you're ready to stop pretending that you're first-years in any meaningful sense. Am I right?"

The Four all nodded, and he went on.

"I think that's an excellent idea, but you'll probably have trouble getting permission. There are very strict rules in place precisely to stop boys and girls from sleeping together - I know you four are an exception to quite a few rules already, but you're likely to have trouble here. I think Albus on his own could go either way - it's often hard even for me to predict that man - but Minerva will be dead against it. Given that she is your Head of House, and also that Albus rarely goes against the advice she gives as Deputy Headmistress, I don't like your chances."

"Well," said Neville, "the Headmaster did just offer to help us in whatever we decide to do now - he might already be on our side. Do you think we could get it past him before Professor McGonagall finds out?"

Flitwick grinned toothily. "Good thinking, young man - good thinking. Let's go."

Together they almost ran to Dumbledore's office, where Flitwick muttered a password and they went straight up. The door opened as they reached it, showing Dumbledore sitting behind his desk.

"Come in, come in," he said, smiling genially.

"Headmaster," said Ron tentatively, "I think we're ready for that help a bit sooner than I thought."

"Anything I can do," said Dumbledore. "What did you have in mind?"

Ron paused. "Well, we have plans that we can take care of by ourselves, but there is one thing that really needs your approval. See, right now we're living in the Gryffindor first-floor dorms, and that's not really working well for us - Hermione in particular is finding it hard, living with four girls who she says don't even really see her as human."

Dumbledore nodded. "A problem, to be sure. What did you have in mind?"

"We'd like a dorm for just the four of us, and maybe not even in Gryffindor tower. Er, and it'd be nice if we could be exempt from curfew - it's a pain not being able to study in our classroom after that."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"You know not what you ask, I fear, but it might be possible yet."

He paused a while longer, then smiled and continued.

"For reasons that I prefer not to discuss at present, student numbers here at Hogwarts have been declining for quite some time. The top several floors of the Gryffindor tower are presently unused, and I can easily turn the top one over to your use. I believe the rooms are empty - I shall have your beds and belongings transferred to one of the dorms. Hermione, would you prefer a dorm to yourself, or to share a dorm with the boys?"

Hermione floundered briefly at the unexpected question, but rallied quickly.

"I think I'd prefer to share with the boys, thank you Headmaster. I've felt so lonely in my current dorm - I don't want to leave it and then just be truly alone instead."

He nodded. "Very well, then. You may use the other rooms on that floor for your studies and research - I'm aware that you have a classroom set aside for your use in the main castle, but it occurs to you that you might like to have some spaces closer by."

The Four all grinned at that.

"That'd be brilliant, thanks Headmaster!" said Neville. "Um... I know that a greenhouse would be a stretch, but could I have Potions lab up there?"

Dumbledore winked at him. "Ah, I'm a step ahead of you there, Mr Longbottom. You most certainly can have a Potions laboratory up there, and I shall even see about having a greenhouse installed on top of the tower - I became curious some time ago as to whether the platform was seeing any use, and the ward I set has been disturbed only a handful of times in the intervening years."

Neville bounced up and down on the spot. "Wow, thanks Headmaster! And I could grow whatever I like?"

"You should talk to Professor Sprout before planting anything too dangerous, just to be sure, but in general I believe you know enough to be safe."

* * *

The Headmaster was as good as his word - by the time the Four reached Gryffindor tower again, they found their beds and belongings had been moved to a room on the highest level. They quickly explored the level, finding about half a dozen empty rooms and two bathrooms, before tiredness claimed them and they all tumbled into bed.


End file.
